


The Question of Control

by Obsessedsleepygirl44



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Betrayal, Complicated Relationships, Depression, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Unplanned Pregnancy, all sorts of tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2021-04-18
Packaged: 2021-04-20 06:02:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 203,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessedsleepygirl44/pseuds/Obsessedsleepygirl44
Summary: Marisa Coulter struggles with control and explores the question of why one man shatters it at every turn.
Relationships: Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter
Comments: 261
Kudos: 546





	1. A Slip in Control

**Author's Note:**

> So, I’m completely obsessed with Marisa after watching the show and while I haven’t read the books, I have read into them. Her relationships are so intriguing and I really believe as a non book reader that much of who she is seems to stem from A: her childhood, which I feel was really messed up, and B: the fallout of her affair. She becomes obsessed with preserving innocence and ridding children of sin and Asriel is obsessed with destroying the Magisterium and the Authority who dictate what sin is. I just feel like their affair affected them in totally opposite ways.
> 
> Anyhow, this is just my random interpretation of that. I’m not sure how long this will be or how true I’ll manage to keep the characters, but hopefully someone will enjoy my obsession.

White lights flickered over the high ceiling as she stepped through the ornately decorated door, her steps measured and determined, leaving the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor in her wake, like a steady drum urging her further into battle.

Pulling her best smile taut across her lips, she glided across the room, a mask of ease and confidence perfectly in place. 

“Ah, Mrs. Coulter,” greeted an elderly man whose name was on the fringe of her mind, but just far enough away that she didn’t care to chase it. “How lovely of you to join us this evening.”

She hummed under her breath as she nodded her head, her smile stretching; her eyes bewitching. “Lovely to be here.”

As she moved deeper into the room, she could feel the various gazes raking over her and had to suppress a sigh of pleasure. Her reputation may be in tatters, her deepest secrets come to light, but one thing she could be sure would never change was the way the eyes of men and women alike trailed after her, like a snake slithering after its prey. Judge as they like, she could see the questions behind many of their gazes, the lust and desire to see if fucking her would be worth the price of disgrace. On occasion, she’d even permitted a handful, but the price had always been hers to demand.

If only they knew that even in her most vulnerable of states, they were still her lesser; no more than a speck of dirt in her path. Their inferiority was a high she’d never cease getting off on. They could keep their gossip and their weightless judgement. Eventually, she’d be stepping over their bloodless corpses, all their vile whispers as dried up as their decaying flesh.

As her eyes flickered over the room, she took in everything; the stuffy atmosphere, the overdone makeup, the indulgences that would surely leave many of the men present without their senses in a short time. Sometimes, she wished it was more of a challenge to control a room such as this. At this point, it was only child’s play to toy with the minds of those present.

Since Edward’s death two years ago, she’d been working her way back into the light; into society’s less than warm embrace. The whispers and gossip had nearly suffocated her; nearly torn her world to shreds leaving her bereft of any sympathy from those she’d once called... well, not friend, but certainly useful acquaintance. Talk of her lover and bastard had been the highlight of conversation in circles for more than a year, eyes casting judgement without an ounce of pity.

Now, here she was... a guest at the top of the food chain once again; the ability to command within her grasp with only the bat of a prettily shaded eye or brush of a perfectly manicured fingertip along a strategically chosen hand.

And she  _ thrived _ on it.

Child’s play or not, it felt good to have control once more; to have them all eating out of the palm of her stained hand.

“Taking it all in?” slithered a silky voice at her ear.

Boreal’s hand rested on her lower back, the touch of it sending a wave of disdain through her; disdain to which she willed her body to avoid reacting.

“Always,” she murmured, bringing her glass to her lips, the wine smooth as it lingered on her tongue.

While it might not be tasteful to mention in polite company, Boreal did have his uses. Just like his daemon, he was able to twist and coil until his prey was compliant in whatever he deemed necessary. With her guidance, he’d played a major part in her standing here tonight, her plans all falling into place, one beautiful piece at a time. It didn’t hurt that he was also rather useful at relieving certain aches she had in the dark of her bedroom, late at night when not a soul was left awake.

“Plotting your next move?”

“Mmm.” She swirled the liquid in her glass. “My next four moves at the very least.”

She turned to him, then, intent to speak more fully, but a glimmer of something in the corner of her eye caused her to misstep and her words to die in her throat. 

It was a brief glimpse of what she prayed was a figment of her imagination; a spotted fur coat reflecting the glittering lights off its graceful figure. She felt her breath go ragged as she squinted at the darker corner of the room, curiosity taking hold.

_ Surely, not._

“Are you alright?”

Boreal’s soft question drew her gaze to find his brow furrowed as he stared at her, his dark eyes intently boring into her.

“I’m fine,” she managed to force out, snapping her smile back into place even as her heart hammered beneath her flesh, those old feelings she’d stamped down creeping back to the surface.

While Boreal spoke again, she tried to force her eyes to remain on him, on what he was driveling on about, but found them betraying her as they wandered back to that dark corner as though she had no will to stop them. She’d have cursed herself if she’d been alone. Instead, she contented herself to digging her fingers harshly into her daemon’s hand as punishment for her weakness of mind.

Lapses such as this were no longer allowed.

When nothing was revealed in the faces and daemons she searched, a sigh of relief slipped out and she returned her full attention to Boreal.

“Do you agree?”

Lost as to what he was inquiring, she held out her empty glass toward him and smiled without missing a beat. “Ask again when you return.”

With a less than amused expression, he took the empty glass from her hand and moved past her.

Her daemon squeezed her hand in reassurance, but she shoved it away, needing nothing further of him. If her mother were here, she would’ve already been scolded for her distraction. Allowing anyone to consume her mind other than the Authority was sinful, her mother would say. She’d been distracted enough as it was and it had taken too long to rectify.

Smoothing her hands down her lavender dress, she sucked in a much needed breath and turned to see where Boreal was with her fresh drink. However, the presence that confronted her before her questioning eyes could settle stole the very breath from her lungs.

Not twenty feet away, there he stood, his grim expression focused squarely on her. If she’d been a lesser woman, she’d have flinched under such scrutiny, but Asriel Belacqua would never steal such reaction from her again.

It didn’t matter that she felt like she’d been hit by a bus, or that her heart felt as though it was on the cusp of rupturing. All that mattered was he’d never know.

So, instead of fluttering to his arms like her daemon considered, she steeled herself and pulled the most devilish smile she could muster to her face, willing him to be the one to dissolve into emotion.

It would be him, not her, to break first.

To anyone else, the change in his expression would have been imperceptible, but, to her, it was victory. The slightest flex of his jaw gave way to his rage as Stelmaria rubbed at his leg as if to tell him to breathe because that was what he did as he tipped the rest of his drink back and slammed it on a passing tray, causing the unsuspecting girl carrying it to yelp in surprise.

Feeling content with her victory, she turned from him as though he were nothing but another fool and took her drink from the returning Boreal. The fact that her heart continued to carry on like it was going to burst from her chest while paying no mind to her racing plea for it to calm didn’t matter.

“Thank you,” she whispered, eyes shining with false delight as she used her other hand to trace over Boreal’s lapel, fingers tickling at the silky material, knowing the damned man at her back would still have his seething eyes on her.

However, Boreal did not return her smile as his eyes lingered in the direction hers had just been. “I see we have an unwelcome guest.”

His words were smooth, but she knew him well enough to know the jealousy coursing through his veins.

Men. So, predictable.

“Take no notice of him,” she suggested, fingers trailing down his arm. “He’s no one.”

“Is that a fact?” he returned, his gaze now on her, searching her out with those dark eyes that seemed to reflect no emotion. “You seem eager to make such a suggestion; a little too eager, perhaps.”

“The truth is always eager to come out.” She lifted a brow. “And I’m feeling rather truthful, tonight.”

Boreal’s smile finally relaxed into one of teasing as he lifted a hand to her waist. “A first for you, no doubt.”

“Mmm, no doubt,” she murmured, sipping her wine while forcing herself to keep her irritation from creeping into her features; the suggestion that Boreal of all people knew anything about her straining her patience.

“Lord Boreal,” called the man who’d greeted her earlier. “Might I introduce you to a colleague of mine?”

Rather than being bored with yet more introductions, she turned toward the balcony, needing a reprieve from the overly perfumed air.

As she stepped into the cool night, her monkey climbed to the edge of the rail, his view of the street below giving her a rush at the distance from the ground. It was as close to living on the edge as she intended to get for now.

There was always a small part of her that questioned what it would feel like to simply let go and fall; to be free from the constraints placed upon her. Since she was a girl, control had always been important to her existence and there’d been very few instances where it had escaped her vice grip.

It was her daemon who noticed him first, sending a shiver down her spine at the intensity with which his presence affected her very soul. She should have known he would follow her. The man just couldn’t help himself. He’d been that way right from the very start.

_ ”I shouldn’t be doing this,” she muttered, even as her fingers grasped at his shoulders to pull him closer. _

_ What little resolve she had left was quickly crumbling, but she still had enough awareness to feel the weight of the ring on her finger and remember Edward was only a few rooms away. _

_ The briefest flinch stilled his body before his mouth swiftly left her neck to seal over hers again, teeth, tongue, and lips drowning her in sensations she’d not felt for some time... if ever._

_ ”I can’t stop,” he admitted between kisses, hands everywhere as he attempted to touch all of her at once. “I won’t pretend any longer.”  
  
_

_ Drawing her fingers to his cheek, she gave him a gentle signal to pull back. Then, the bluest of eyes met hers as their hot breath mingled in short, little gasps. _

_ ”Pretend?” she whispered, eyes flickering over his face, desperate to hear it but terrified he’d say something radically unacceptable. _

_ Is that what they’d been doing since they met mere weeks ago? Pretending? He hadn’t done a good job if that was the case. The charge that had swept between them, one stimulated by intellectual capacity and his eagerness to debate with her, despite her being of the lesser sex as Edward would say, had been clear as day to her. _

_Instead of answering right away, he slipped a hand up her thigh and rested it just out of reach of the place she’d just about trade her daemon to have him touch. _

_ ”If you’re going to send me away, do it now,” he growled, fingertips lightly scratching at her skin as his eyes kept hers, holding her there like they were two magnets locked in place. “Because once I touch you, there’ll be no stopping me.”_

_Rather than letting him know the words were stuck in her throat, she avoided him seeing his affect on her by slipping her fingers through his hair and pulling him close again. _

_ They’d already fallen. There was no point in stopping it now. _

Still, despite every nerve within her screaming for her to turn, she refused to do so, to acknowledge him. It would have to be he who spoke first if anyone were forced to speak at all. She’d not give him another drop of her dignity.

“I see your company has worsened over time.” Stelmaria’s voice was the sweetest pleasure she’d heard in ages, like a symphony of bells in her ears. She hated herself for it. “Though, I should have expected no less from a poisonous snake such as yourself.”

So, he’d let his daemon speak first while knowing she’d be the one forced to speak in return. 

The coward.

Her daemon tilted forward as though to descend from his perch toward Stel, but a quick dart of her eyes stopped him in his tracks, batting down the pleading in her soul to reach out to Asriel’s. 

_ Weakness_ _,_ a voice whispered in the back of her mind.

But the game was now afoot and it was a game she’d win.

Her devilish smile returned as she turned, all grace and poise against his ragged appearance. He looked as though he’d walked in off the street with his pullover and coat seeming to be many days old of needing a wash and press and his face lacking that close shave she’d always appreciated dragging against her skin as he worshipped her.

Bringing the glass to her mouth, she watched as those intoxicating, crystal eyes followed it, never blinking as she sipped the liquid.

“There it is,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. “Always giving me  _ exactly _ what I want.”

His eyes bore into her then, like two flaming arrows ready to pierce her heart and leave her desolate and bare before him._ It wouldn’t be the first time_, she thought and had to force herself from wincing at the memories.

“You rather look as though you’ve wandered in off the street,” she mocked, with extra emphasis on her words as she clicked her tongue.

“Marisa.”

The way her name rolled off his lips set her body aflame with need for him, for his warmth, regardless of his riches to rags appearance. However, it was his accompanying step forward that caused the first, physical falter in her facade.

_“Don’t,”_ she growled, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare.”

A predatory smirk creased his mouth as he ignored her and continued to diminish the distance between them until he was within a breath of her, heavy presence overwhelming her own.

“Don’t what, Marisa?” he growled in return, his eyes dark and oozing with thoughts so clear she could read them as though they were written across his face. “Am I no longer allowed in your presence?”

A taunting chuckle escaped him, his eyes raking her body as Stel circled behind her, the slightest brush of the leopard’s tail against her ankle sending a jolt of electricity through her.

“Last I checked, that wasn’t on the list of things taken from me by your precious Magisterium.”

All but spitting the last word, he reached forward, his coarse fingers tracing her jawline, effectively sending a plethora of tingles right down her spine.

“You sound put out,” she whispered, calling on all her strength to stand firm. “You seem to be doing just fine securing your funding if the papers are anything to go by. Perhaps, you finally understand what it is to be a woman, now, trading your body and soul for little reward.”

His eyes darkened as his fingers bitingly gripped her chin, holding her too firmly for her to dare move. “You enjoy it, don’t you? Watching me grovel to those fucking idiots in there, begging for a scrap of support from people who could never match a quarter of the ambition you and I have.”

Breath staggering at his accusation, she found her hands pressing to his chest, attempting to hold him far enough back to keep a little room to maintain clear thinking, and whispered, “You know, I don’t.”

Why he could still do this to her baffled her, the power he held with a simple word, a simple touch. Was the voice right? Was she really so weak?

“Do I?” he reiterated, his gaze sweeping every inch of her face for falsity. “Forgive me if your performance at my trial caused a sliver of doubt in my mind. You were  _oh so_ convincing.”

“It wasn’t a perform-“

Letting her chin go, he brought a swift finger to press over  her lips. “No lying, tonight, Marisa.”

Steeling herself, she took a step back and turned away from him, drawing a ragged breath in as she brought the glass to her lips again in an attempt to find her composure.

The city lights drew her gaze as she ignored the presence creeping at her bare back; the eyes tracing her figure as surely as she breathed. If Asriel was consistent at anything, it was being unable to keep his eyes off her, followed closely by his hands.

“It’s beneath you to be so obviously stricken with... whatever it is you’re stricken with, Asriel,” she murmured, setting the glass on the rail with a sigh. “Honestly, you’re worse than Edward ever was.”

Her daemon shuffled along the railing in front of her, his grip tight as his longing gaze focused completely on Stel who growled in response. She wished with all her might she could simply shove him right off the balcony to endure the long drop to oblivion for giving way to anything akin to her true feelings.

The tight grip to the back of her hair was expected as he jerked her head back against his shoulder, his hot breath on her ear scorching right through the flesh.

“You dare to mention that name to me?” His other hand encircled her neck in a lock near to strangling as his lips brushed her ear. “Now, who’s daring who?”

It was unintentional; the shiver that went down her spine for the upteenth time since seeing him. And she knew he felt it, too.

“Perhaps, you wish he’d killed us, Lyra and I?” He tightened his grip on her throat. “No shame for Marisa Coulter if her lover and child are dead; anything to save a little face and keep people from remembering how she used to bend over for me to fuck while her husband waited in the next room.”

With a furious growl, she bit her nails hard into his arm until he released her to spin and place a hard palm against his chest. He stumbled back half a step before briskly recovering and surging forward to encompass her once more as he pressed her into the railing, the stone cutting into her lower back. A momentary worry he would actually toss her right over flickered across her mind as she desperately grasped at his shoulders to steady herself.

“Have you lost your mind?” she scolded, even as she worried internally that she’d miscalculated his intentions. “Release me.”

However, when she caught sight of his eyes,all her struggle came to an abrupt halt. She’d expected rage or hate, but what she found instead was utter despair. It was like being punched in the gut, leaving her to give a breathless,  “Asriel...”

“Is it, Marisa?” he whispered, and she could smell the Tokay on his breath, the drink clearly doing his talking for him. “Is that what you wish? That I were dead?” A weary, staggered breath washed her face. “I thought you- you said you couldn’t breathe without me.”

It would have been so easy to say yes; to say he was nothing to her, that the child was nothing to her. For the last two years, that’s exactly what she’d trained herself to do- not care. However, the darkness inside crept forward to remind her of the nights of desperate screams and complete breaks in her mind at the loss within her; a loss she should have been pleased with, but could never deny to herself no matter how much she punished her daemon.

“What do you want me to say, Asriel?” she asked so softly she wasn’t even sure she’d spoken.

The flutter of his manic eyes continued to tug at the things that weren’t buried deep enough. She’d have to work on that later.

“Tell me it was worth it,” he whispered, his brow pressing into hers as his caresses became more tentative than brutal. “Tell me you’re happy with your choice.”

She nearly laughed. Asriel Belacqua was concerned with her happiness after what she’d done? Surely, he’d gone completely mad or was at the very least playing some game with her.

“Happy?” Her fingers bit hard into his jaw, pushing him back to see his eyes. “What does happiness have to do with anything? Happiness is for fools who lack ambition and sureness of step.”

His crystal eyes cracked open, their focus split between her eyes and her mouth. “Didn’t we have all of that? We could have had everything.”

“Just how much Tokay have you entertained tonight, darling?” Fingers tracing his scruffy jawline, she took a tight hold of his chin, her nails digging deeper than his had, sure to draw blood should she dig any deeper. Her bite had always been worse than his. “I admit I’ve rarely seen your senses quite so muddled.”

His eyes danced over her face like he literally couldn’t look away. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her and she mentally cursed herself for wishing he would, but then his expression darkened into something more sinister and she was reminded of how intimidating Asriel could be. Normally, she’d always welcomed this side of him, but that was before... before the baby and Edward had ruined everything.

“Such beauty covering such poison.” His hands grasped her waist as he pressed flush into her. “How do you fuck that snake?” His lips trailed to her ear, anger rippling off him. “Is it the same? Do you bare your claws for him as you did for me, Marisa?” 

She had to suppress a groan as he twisted his hips into hers, leaving nothing to the imagination about his intentions. The last time they’d been this close was at his estate when she’d visited the child; her inability to resist seeing the fruit of their affair consuming her to the point of madness. Edward had been tipped off to her careless visit and the rest was history, leaving her twenty-three year old foolish self in a bed of her own making; one filled with what felt like a lifetime of shame and regret.

“Infinitely more,” came her response, pointed and forceful, as she slithered her fingers into the back of his dark hair. “I’m sure his flesh is still aching from last nights frolick between my thighs. I know mine is.”

Whether the next growl came from Asriel or Stel, she couldn’t be sure, but his fingers ripping at the waist of her dress as he tugged it upward was completely expected and not at all as unwelcome as she’d later claim.

In a matter of moments, his fingers were in places that had longed for him for far too long. Taunt as she might, nothing compared to Asriel, the only man who’d ever touched her soul.

”I must say, you play the part of heartsick widow well, monkey,” he murmured into her cheek, just shy of actually kissing her as his fingers slipped past her underwear through the aching folds of her sex. “You even had me believing you didn’t love me for a while, that you didn’t love her.”

Silver and gold flashed at the corner of her eye where their daemons were rolling along the balcony, hers taking a supine position as the leopard rested over him, rough tongue lapping at his golden head.

Becoming caught in their dance, words began tumbling out before she could stop them. “I want to see her,” she groaned against his neck, fingers clutching his hair in a vice as his hand committed acts against her flesh for which she’d laid many nights awake longing, her own fingers desperately twisting and curling for release. 

“Never,” he answered, lips at her pulse and middle finger burying deep inside her. “You’ll never see her again, Marisa.”

The urge to claw out his eyes came to her as she bit into his shoulder, the metallic taste of blood teasing her tongue as his leopard gave a snarl beside them. In return, he pressed her harder into the railing and slipped a hand under the thigh clutching at his hip as she wantonly rutted against his hand, now panting open mouthed at his cheek.

“My dirty monkey,” he growled in her ear as he swiped his thumb over that aching bundle of nerves. “You’ll never be her mother.”

Then, with a muffled cry into his jacket, it was all over and her body was left to the cold as he took a step back, leaving her bereft of his touch as her limbs quaked with release.

Hands clutching the railing behind her, she tilted her head back, eyes on the stars above as she steadied her breathing. A sudden flash of her mother’s disapproving glare caused a stagger in her breath and had her reaching a hand to dig into her daemon’s fur.

“I may be poison, but _you’re_ the snake who infected me,” she quipped, eyes finding his with a heat she hadn’t imagined she could conjure under such circumstances. “You just couldn’t leave it alone. I told you to leave it alone, Asriel, but you _forced_ my hand. You lured me into this.”

“You didn’t want me to leave it alone!” he returned equally as forceful. “You sat there at the trial and allowed your mother to fill your ear with her whispers of  _ sin _ and you allowed her to turn our child into your greatest shame.” He shook his head as he held out his hands in surrender. “You wanted her, Marisa. I know you did. But then you allowed your mother to get into your head, _again.”_

“She’s not in my head!” she snapped, nails digging into her daemon painfully. “_I _ am in control!”

“Are you?” he asked, his eyes lingering on her daemon, who was struggling not to howl out. “You were nearly broke of that, of hurting yourself.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall. Countless hours had been spent listening to him whisper sweet nothings in her ear; whispers of her worth and value to him; things the hard and arrogant Asriel Belacqua would never be accused of saying in the light of day.  
  
  
_ Lies__,_ she heard her mother scold.

“Your mother is the reason you will never lay eyes on Lyra again,” he said with a certain finality she wanted to slap from his mouth. “I’ve heard the whispers, Marisa. I know the direction you’re headed in and Lyra will not play part in it.”

“And you think you’re a better father than I a mother, Asriel?” she questioned, disregarding his accusations and twisting her daemon’s fur. “You’re not the only one who’s heard whispers. Your heresy is spreading like wildfire throughout Britain.”

“No,” he softly replied as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I think we’re equally awful in our own ways which is why I’ll never call myself her father.”

Taken aback by his admittance, she said, “But you stole her away... she’s at Jordan College with you.”

With a a shrug, he cast a thin smile her way. “Being raised by the master there.”

At that, she scoffed and shoved her daemon away. “So, you took her from a perfectly respectable nunnery to live with stuffy old men who are only concerned with their precious, academic texts?”

“I took her to the one place you cannot gain access to her. I wasn’t going to have her brainwashed as you were.” He darted another pointed glance at her monkey, who was being comforted by Stel, before she could object. “If it’s the last thing I do in this world, I will end it all, Marisa. They ruined you; the Magisterium, your mother. I’ll not let them ruin, Lyra, too.”

All her resolve, everything she’d worked so hard to rebuild, felt as though it were shattering under his judgement. Her mother’s voice called on her to sever the sinful tie that was binding her to him.

“Not if I end it, first.” With that, she snapped her fingers and within a moment, her daemon was at her side, whimpering at his loss. “Goodbye, Asriel.”

Not bothering to wait for a response, she brushed past him and made her way to the balcony’s door, willful intention in her every step.


	2. Shall We Play A Game?

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Eyes boring a hole into the rather large clock on the wall, she willed herself to not walk up, rip it from its resting place, and shatter it into an irreparable pile of wires and wheels.

Her daemon shifted, his unease more evident than her own; his dark eyes fixated on the door as he fidgeted with the books beneath him. His recent behavior was something which would need addressing soon, but she had been without the time to properly do so. For the last few days, she’d been consumed with plotting her next move, a move she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to work, but that was hardly the point.

Digging her nails into the back of the cushioned seat, she clenched her jaw, recalling the events of three nights ago.

Asriel had always had a way of crawling into her brain and picking it apart, piece by piece, until she was left exposed before him like a raw nerve. It drove her to the brink of madness how deeply he knew her; how much she had revealed to him while secure in his arms. At the time, she’d thought herself safe, untouchable, as no one would dare stand against Asriel Belacqua. Even at the age of twenty-six, he had been too admired, too wealthy, and too feared.

_ “You’ve been quiet this evening,” he murmured into her hair, arms tightening around her as he pressed closer into her back, their bare skin clinging with the remnants of their joining. _

_ “I haven’t much to say,” she whispered, gaze fixed on the stars glittering through the thin curtains. “It’s been a very long day.” _

_ A day of playing wife and pretending for her husband’s sake that she was less brilliant than he. The dutiful wife with a face to draw the gaze while her husband droned on about everything and nothing at all. It was nauseating to relegate herself to such low levels when she’d always been on the smarter end of the room._

_ Asriel’s hand slid up to take hers within his grasp and brought it to his lips as he leaned over her. “Made better by this, of course.” _

_ Despite herself, she smiled. “You think awfully high of yourself.” _

_ “Isn’t that why you’re here?” he reasoned, a lightness to his tone. “To battle out who has the larger ego of the two of us?” _

_ Shifting to her back, she gazed up at him, allowing herself to bask in his charm. “I’m sure of myself, not self absorbed.” _

_ “Mmm, is that what it is?” he challenged, his brow lifted in teasing as he traced a finger along her jaw. “Sounds like you’re mincing words.” _

_ “Well, isn’t that what the best scholars do? Talk out of both sides of their mouth?” _

_ “It certainly works for you,” he replied with what she could only describe as a proud grin. “I’m sure I’ve never seen you more captivating than you were this evening.” _

_ With a sigh, she rolled her head to the side, taking in the way his chest hummed with the pulse of life. _

_ Edward had been particularly over affectionate this evening and she had felt Asriel’s eyes boring into her the entire time. Any glance at him had revealed his body coiled as if ready to pounce._

_ The man couldn’t simply just attend an event and frustrate, intimidate, and mesmerize his audience. He had to also scowl at her as though he had any right to do so. When he acted that way, she tended to spend her entire evening anxious he would give them away._

_ “It was agonizing,” she whispered, her eyes focused on his pulse as she considered how complicated her very strategically planned life had become. “I wanted to strangle him, drain the life right out of him.” _

_ “A slight shove off the balcony might be better,” he suggested, his voice now more serious than teasing. “You’d make an exquisite widow.” _

_ A laugh, genuine as she was capable, escaped her as she met his eyes again. “And who would shove him? You or I?” _

_ “Oh, I wouldn’t dare rob you of your moment,” he answered, fingers dancing along her neck. “My disastrous, little monkey.” _

_ Mention of her daemon stole her smile. “I told you not to call me that.” _

_ “And I told you, I’m not ashamed of you,” he returned, his eyes softening. “Not any part.” _

_ It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be a bit of fun; a reprieve from her less than vigorous husband, not the tie that bound her to reality. _

_ Rather than falling deeper under his spell, she tilted forward and captured his mouth in a bruising kiss, her fingers burying themselves in his dark hair. _

“Stop it,” she growled suddenly, causing her daemon, who’d been reaching for her, to recoil with a whimper.

She hated Asriel for what he did to her. She could control everything; her expressions, her words, other people, but the one thing she could never manage to control was the way her heart twisted at the very thought of him. Even now, with him in flight headed North, this place suffocated her with his presence to the point that she felt as though he were here, eyes on her, picking her apart as he always did.

Just as she was about to reach for a fistful of her daemon’s fur, there were footsteps and the door opening. A dark man, glasses perched on his nose, glided through the door, robes of black flowing behind him.

“Mrs. Coulter, I presume?” he asked, extending his hand to her. 

She regarded the hand a moment before taking it within both of hers and calling upon her most intentional of smiles.

“Master, I appreciate your taking the time to see me.” Squeezing his hand gently, she went on, “I know you must be flooded with more important things to do than entertain me.”

He regarded her a moment, seemingly inspecting her like a germ under a microscope. No doubt Asriel had said something less than flattering. Such an outcome would make her request all the more challenging.

“Indeed,” he answered, taking a seat in the high back chair while holding out his hand in a gesture for her to follow suit. “It’s not everyday we at Jordan College receive a visitor from the widow of a Magisterium official.”

“Well,” she began, smoothing her slacks out as she sat, her smile widening as though letting him in on a secret. “You’ll be glad to know this has nothing to do with the Magisterium.”

A nod of his head was the only response she received. Clearly, the man was going to force her to come right out with it.

“I understand that Lord Asriel gave a task to you a little over a year ago and I’m here to offer you relief from it.”

“A task?” he repeated, brow lifted as the raven ruffled her feathers. “I take it the _it_you’re referring to is Lyra.”

Hearing her daughter’s name caused a minute shift in her face, but she recovered promptly, nails biting into her palm.

“Yes, that would be the one,” she answered simply.

“Well, I’m afraid I need no relief from that task.” He turned to her and leaned forward. “You see, Mrs. Coulter, protecting that innocent, little girl is the highest priority I have.”

The accusation, veiled as it may have been, managed to rub her as she expected he’d meant it to. Though, the muscles in her face held firm, her daemon grunted though his nose as he stared menacingly at the man.

“This is not a request, Master. She belongs to me and as Lord Asriel is not here-“

“Convenient timing,” he interrupted with a small smile, his finger spinning in a circle as he relaxed back into his chair. “That you arrive just as he leaves for the North, right within the hour in fact.”

Her daemon clutched at the carpet to keep from pouncing, allowing every bit of tension she was feeling to be visible. 

All smiles vanished, she replied evenly, “As I said, this is not a request. That girl is mine.”

“That girl, she, it...” He shook his head like he was lecturing an unruly student. “Has a name, Mrs Coulter, and it’s Lyra. Beyond that, I’ve yet to hear anything resembling the plea of a mother for her child come from you.”

Lungs ready to burst with rage, she sneered, “Dr. Carne, this is not a game. I _demand_ to see her.”

“The Magisterium holds no power of demand here, Mrs. Coulter. I do not fear nor comply with your demands.”

Heart pounding, she exhaled and forced herself to relax. This was not how it was supposed to go. Her emotions were too chaotic and it was causing her to lose her composure. She’d known she rushed things, but Asriel had pushed her once again.

“I see,” she whispered evenly, before rising to her feet and pacing toward the fire. “Dr. Carne... I imagine you’re aware of the rumors of heretical teachings being circulated about Jordan College?”

The sound of leather creaking caught her ear, bringing enough satisfaction to rejuvenate her.

“Heresy?” he asked, his voice an octave higher. “There’s no such rumor.”

She spun on her heel, face full of mock surprise.

“No?” she smiled apologetically. “My mistake.” She took a few measured steps forward and lulled her head left to right. “It’d be _such_ a shame for whispers to reach the ears of the Cardinal. I’m sure it would break his heart to be forced to investigate this... _scholastic_ _sanctuary.”_

Pausing mere feet from the man, she held her hands behind her back, face stretched with a smile she knew would drop stronger men than he. “The girl... Master.”

To his credit, the man did not rise to a fit, but rather deflated like a balloon.

  
“Asriel will not have it,” he said, his voice stiff. “When he hears-“

“Allow me to worry about, Lord Asriel,” she cut in a nearly sing song voice, her smile ever present. “I assure you, I know _just_ how to handle him.”

“Do you, now?” Asriel’s deep voice felt like a bucket of ice water being thrown over her. “Well, then, Marisa, please, _do_ handle me.”

Straightening her back as her daemon jumped to the back of the chair to leer at him, she turned to find him leaning against the bookcase on the far side of the room, a self-satisfyed smirk on his face.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Dr. Carne said as he rose, straightening his robes. “I’m sure you have much to discuss.”

With that, the man and his daemon exited the room.

There was a pregnant pause where they simply stared, her with quiet rage and he with clear amusement, hands in his pockets, seemingly quite content with himself.

“How long-” she began, nails biting into her palms. “How did you know-“

“Oh, Marisa,” he began in a patronizing tone, practically strutting across the room to a desk with a variety of choices to drink. “Let us not forget that I know you better than you know yourself.”

Her lungs burned with the desire to scream at him, to pound him with her fists until that smirk was unrecognizable. Yet, there was another part of her, a part she’d deny to her last breath, that wanted to kiss him into submission for his utter brilliance.

“Is that so?” she lazily replied, forgoing anger for boredom, as she unceremoniously dropped into the seat she’d previously occupied. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a fight; at least not a fight she hadn’t started herself. “Do enlighten me.”

Lifting two glasses, he walked to her and held out one. As she took it, he grinned and settled into Dr. Carne’s chair like a preening peacock, eyes glinting under those dark locks that were in desperate need of a trim.

“You couldn’t help yourself,” he answered, settling his ankle over his knee and clearly making himself comfortable. “The way you stormed off the other night after being had, I knew you’d have to one up me sooner rather than later.”

Rolling her eyes, she lifted her glass to her lips, allowing the liquid to settle on her tongue a moment before she downed it entirely. This was the Asriel she remembered, not the simpering fool from the party who had moaned about her happiness.

“I suppose you think yourself clever, now,” she bit out, ignoring how twisted her stomach felt in his presence. The man was so obnoxious sometimes. “Perhaps, I was here for genuine reasons.”

_“Genuine?_ Marisa, I don’t believe there’s a single genuine thing about you,” he said, chuckling as he did. “Not your clothes, your smile, the words on your lips; it’s all pre-planned with malicious purpose. We’re all just puppets for you to play with and discard as you see fit.”

Purpose fell from his mouth like a curse, as though she were actually pure malice in his eyes.

“You’re like a shadow, visible but untouchable, slinking and slithering like smoke through the fingers of anyone who might try to grasp hold of you.”

“Mmm,” she murmured, avoiding the fact that her daemon was curled with his in front of the fire, nuzzling like lost lovers. This would not do.

“Even, now, you’re sitting there, adjusting, recalculating the best way to gain the upper hand.”

“Oh, Asriel, darling,” she drawled with a bright smile, head tilted at him as though he were a child in need of instruction. “You’re not as complex as you like to think yourself. Bare a little skin, smile just the right way, stroke your ego...” She leaned forward, her smile taunting, her voice light as a feather. “And you’re mine, just as you’ve _always_ been.”

“I think you’re overestimating your allure,” he answered, grin ridiculously large as he tilted his glass toward her. “Besides, when have you ever stroked my ego? You’re too wrapped up in outdoing my ego. No,” he went on with another chuckle. “That’s what the other women are for. Why, just last night, a red head and her Sphinx gave us a run for our money. Didn’t they, Stel?”

He was lying. She knew he was to the point that she didn’t even bother glancing at the leopard who was too involved betraying him with her own traitorous daemon to answer him. The lie angered her nonetheless.

“And you think I care?” She forced herself to relax, forced her breathing to even out as she studied him, noting the way his smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes and the way his fingers fondled the glass; a nervous tick he usually controlled, but she enjoyed seeing present all the same.  


  
“Perhaps, you’re right,” she began, lazily twirling her empty glass. “If you ask me, I believe things have settled between us. There’s no fire any longer, no _spark.”_ She sighed, shoulders turning in. “Boreal might not be quite to your par, but...” Picking herself up, she stepped toward him and leaned down, placing one hand on the arm of his chair, taking care to brush his skin where his shirt was rolled up, while the other placed the glass in his free hand. “I suppose he’ll have to do.”

She trailed her eyes over his face and enjoyed the rush of heat that flowed through her as his gaze followed her mouth.

“I’ll show myself out.”

With that, she snapped her fingers at her completely useless daemon and started for the door. Upon opening it, she allowed herself a grin as she stepped into the hallway and closed it behind her.

Her daemon grunted disapprovingly, but she only grinned all the more as she spun on her heel and crossed her arms, waiting.

Asriel was many things, brilliant in nearly every way, her absolute equal, but he was still a man and, try as he might, she knew he wouldn’t falter in that weakness, not even now.

Like clockwork, perhaps, taking a beat longer than she’d expected, the door flung open, revealing a very harried and heaving Asriel Belacqua.

“Going somewhere in a rush?” she asked innocently, fire licking in her belly as she lifted a finger to smooth his hair back. “You seem pressed, Asriel.”

If looks could kill, she’d be six feet under.

“You filthy monkey,” he growled, hands tearing at her arm and slinging her back through the door. “You do enjoy making a fool of me.”

Heels might not have been her best choice, but she managed to _just_ keep her balance, if not a little less graceful than she wished.

Stel had her daemon pinned to the floor as Asriel slammed the door behind him and began stalking toward her as menacingly as his daemon ever could.

“You’re one to talk, Asriel,” she snapped back. “I’m simply continuing the game you began when all I wanted was to see the girl-“

“Say her name and I’ll let you,” he cut in, eyes solidly on hers, chest still heaving. “Say her name, Marisa.”

A scoff she hadn’t meant to escape did so and she had to suppress the urge to throttle him for triggering it.

“You’re absolutely infuriating,” she growled, taking a swipe at him only to have him catch her arms and pin her to a desk, his body pressed firmly against hers. “Just admit you won’t allow me to see her no matter what I say. You just want me to grovel before you so you can use it against me later.”

“No, darling, that’s what you would do.” He leaned forward, his mouth barely brushing hers, his intoxicating presence overwhelming her senses. “I’m just attempting to prove a hypothesis. I want to see if there’s anything genuine left in you.”

All she could do was blink at him. It was like he stole her ability to deflect, manipulate, and lie all with one look.

“There isn’t,” she whispered, tearing her eyes from him even as her daemon allowed Stelmaria to rub her head against his, betraying her once again. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Not even a little thrill as you stood waiting for me just then?” he asked, his hands now at her waist as he swayed ever so teasingly back and forth against her.

“I was testing a hypothesis,” she cut back, still refusing to look at him. The problem was her eyes were now locked on their daemons entwined on the floor looking as content as ever.

Was she content? To be trapped under this man, in a constant battle of wills? She didn’t want to dwell for too long on the answer.

“Care to test another?” he asked, fingers teasing the skin between her blouse and slacks as his warm breath slid along her jaw and the barest flicker of his tongue touched her ear.

The fire in her belly was only fueled by his touch and that scratch from days of neglect along his jawline, the flames melting her resolve until it began to pool into the patch of lace between her thighs.

“I _despise_ you,” she hissed, eyes finally on his crystal orbs, noses bumping at their proximity. “With everything inside me, I hate you, Asriel.”

Rather than be put off, he only smirked. “Oh, not nearly as much as I despise you, darling.” He punctuated his words with thesnap of the button on her slacks. “Every inch of you.”

His fingers, without a moment’s hesitation and pliant as ever, found her again and his smirk was unbearable when the digits smoothed through her slick folds, but she couldn’t bring herself to be embarrassed as her eyes fluttered shut against her will. His smell, his touch, his mouth on her neck... she was gone before she could fathom where she was going.

What followed could only be described as a culmination of two years of suppression being let loose to further destroy their souls. He wasted no time shoving her slacks down her thighs before fumbling with his own enough to get access to his cock. Then, still fully clothed, he forced her around until her face was pressed into the polished wood and the hard length of him roughly rammed into her right there against the table, burying himself to the hilt and drawing an embarrassingly wanton moan from her lungs.

”I’m going to fuck you so hard there’ll be no leaving me, tonight,” he panted at her ear, fingers gripping her hair as he leaned over her back, his thick thighs seated against hers as he held himself deep in her core. “And you’re going to take it so eagerly your bitch of a mother will hear you screaming my name from her little house of horrors up the river.”

The pace he set was brutal, hammering into her like he meant to rip her open, to tear her to shreds right there in one of the oldest rooms in the college.  And she really thought he just might.

  
  
Resting her face against her left arm, she reached back and grasped at any part of him she could find as every thrust forced her further into the table, the edge cutting into her thighs, each movement drawing little gasps up her throat as the pain shot through her.

From her bent place, she could see Stel pinning her daemon to the ground, paw at his neck as she bit at his ear. Then, with a quick swipe, he had her own ear in his fist, twisting until she let out a roar.

”Fuck,” Asriel groaned, dropping to his knees and dragging her down with him, both of them clawing and biting, each determined to dominate the other as they rolled along the floor.

Quick as a snap, he pinned her beneath him, knees locked at her waist as he tore her blouse over her head, disregarding the buttons she prayed didn’t bust. With an elbow in his gut, she tried to weasel away, but he caught her leg and proceeded to pull her slacks off along with her heels in one fluid motion.

”Come here,” he growled, grabbing her ankle and dragging her toward him until she was beneath him again, hands around his neck and gliding through his hair as he fell forward and devoured her mouth, which captured his sharp grunt as he pushed into her again.

It felt like an eternity before she managed to get his shirt unbuttoned as every new press of his hips into hers seemed to muddle her mind, but she wanted his skin against hers in an aching way.

”Off,” she muttered, biting his bottom lip and coming away with the metallic taste of blood on her tongue when he jerked his head back.

”Dirty monkey,” he grunted, tearing the material away as though it had offended him before diving into her mouth once more.

Skin burning under her fingertips, she ran her hands along the planes of his chest, reacquainting herself with the familiar feel of him. There’d been a time she could close her eyes and see every blemish and freckle of his body, having spent hours and hours studying him.

When she finally managed to work his pants down his legs with her feet, she resumed her efforts to completely infuriate him. “Is this the best you can do?” she asked, nails dragging along his spine, deep enough to have him flinch and growl into her neck. “The snake fucks harder than this.”

Exactly as she wanted, he lifted his head, crystal eyes flickering madness. “What?”

With a swipe of her tongue along his lips, she whispered, “You heard me.”

A dangerous glint passed over his features before a cruel smile accompanied the slowing of his hips. “Not everything is about being hard, love.”

As if to emphasize his point, he gave a deep, lazy stroke, his finger pinching a nipple and twisting.

She had to bite her lip to keep her moan contained as she arched into him. Then, his mouth replaced his finger as his lips latched around her nipple, teeth now holding her still as he withdrew and repeated his next few strokes, slipping in and out of her in the same deliberate manner.

”Asriel,” she sighed, fingers clutching at his arms, begging him to return to her.

”You’ve not earned it, yet,” he muttered, drawing his head back as his teeth kept her pebbled flesh caught firm.

Desperate for him to acknowledge her plight, she lifted her legs, hooking her ankles around his ass so she could hold him secure while rocking against him, searching for just the right angle for friction against her clit.

That was when he finally groaned and pushed up to settle on his knees, hands wrapping around her hips to take back control of the positions.

”No,” he quipped, even as his hips kept pace with the one she’d set, eyes clenched tight for a few heartbeats as he attempted to steady his breathing.

”Just fuck me, Asriel,” she murmured, thrusting a firm hand to his chest and lifting her legs so she could twist to her hands and knees before pushing herself up.

Reaching back, she grasped his neck to usher his mouth to her neck as she used her other hand to stroke him with a few, quick pumps before drawing him in again.

It didn’t take him long to decide to let her do as she wished. Inside her again, he wrapped his arms around her, one hand at her waist as the other slithered up between her breasts. His hot breath drenched the back of her neck, prompting her to arch toward him as he murmured, “You know you can’t always have it your way.”

As they moved together, she turned her head with a smirk, seeking his mouth which met her like he’d read her thoughts before she’d even conjured them.

Each heavy breath seemed to arouse her more as she slid her fingers through his damp hair, kissing him harder, wanting more of him as the heat in the room began to build with the sounds of their slapping flesh.

Then, reading her as he always did, the hand at her waist slithered between her thighs, forcing her to mewl into his mouth at the press of his fingers to her clit, the steady circling sending her crashing toward her orgasm like a freight train off the rails.

He swallowed her cries, deepening their kiss to the point that she thought she’d black out before her climax receded. Perhaps, it was his plan to kill her, to finally be done with her. It would be so like Asriel to do it this way.

Then, just as she managed to blink the white dots from her vision, the tremble in his legs came and she was suddenly leaned forward on her hands as he slammed into her with a final thrust, sending his seed deep into her womb.

Hair stuck to her face, she pressed her face into the burgundy rug and sucked in the precious air she too often took for granted, so spent she could barely bring herself to move. Like a moth to a flame, he followed her, mouth teasing the column of her spine, hand splayed against her belly to hold her close.

Every press of his skin against hers made the lick of the flames mere feet away seem like a match before the brilliance of his inferno. On any given day, Asriel had the ability to outshine everyone around him, suffocating them with his intensity, but this close... his presence was nearly unbearable.

At the point that her breathing finally began to even out, he was lazily pressing his mouth along her neck and jaw, avoiding her teeth no doubt as she was prone to use them as her last resort of dominance, which could be seen from his swollen lip.

“Still think there’s no fire left between us?” he inquired, dragging his teeth along her lobe, his one free hand gripping her thigh so tight she knew there’d be bruises in no time to accompany the others from the table. That knowledge sent a thrill along her spine as she twisted around to her back and slid her leg over his hip, cradling him in her arms.

Turning her face into his cheek, she nipped at his flesh, barely missing him as he teasingly evaded her. “Not a single, solitary spark.”

His laughter was tangible, drawing her own, as he finally rolled over to rest beside her, both now staring at the flickering flames on the ceiling as their skin cooled.

The quiet that settled between them quickly grew to feel heavy. Words seemed to come and go as she attempted to sort through the sudden weight of the mess she’d just made. Again.

Then, his fingers began dancing over and between hers as their arms rested between them on the floor. She shouldn’t allow it, but found she couldn’t pull herself away, didn’t _want_ to pull herself away. For all his strong suits and callousness, she knew Asriel as well as he claimed to know her. He couldn’t help but to touch her while this close, which had always caused her both an ache in her heart as well as her head throughout her marriage. Normally, she’d tease him for such sentiment, but just couldn’t bring herself to do so, tonight. Instead, she closed her eyes and pretended she wasn’t completely at peace with him beside her.

“You never answered my question,” he whispered after a time.

“Hmm?”

“Was it worth it?” His fingers tightened around hers as though preparing for her to jerk away. “Are you happy with your choice?”

The twinge in her belly was the only reaction she gave as she considered his question, her gaze returning to the flickering of the flames reflected along the ceiling.

_No, it wasn’t,_ her mind whispered to her.

But she’d never tell him that. She’d never tell him about the darkness that had swallowed her when they’d come for him and their child; about her mother’s arrival on her doorstep to remind her of her duty, of her _sin; _about her brother picking her up from the miserable mess she’d been on the floor and setting her in the chair as her mother brushed her hair, whispering in her ear just as Asriel had claimed, grip painful and unrelenting as she conveyed in every look the disgust and disappointment she held toward her only daughter.

“Of course,” she murmured, not even having the strength to conjure more conviction in her tone. “I’m right where I want to be.”

He rolled to his side, fingers now on her chin as he gently eased her face toward his. When their eyes met, she took in the way he searched her, gaze penetrating as he picked apart every minute facet of her face. And it hurt. It hurt so deep and so sharp that she had no energy left to defeat the pain that accompanied having to hide from him.

“Are we being literal or metaphorical?”

Rather than answering him, she tore her gaze from him, resuming her stare with the ceiling. She couldn’t stand the pureness of him and having him this close, this open, made it difficult to pretend she wasn’t affected by it.

Whether he could tell she wouldn’t answer, or was just being timid, he left it be and took to roaming her with feather light touches along her neck and breasts, making his way down her body. However, when he paused along her belly, fingertips tracing an imperceptible pattern, it flooded her all at once what he was doing.

”Don’t,” she whispered, eyes falling closed as she pushed his hand away from the remnants of her pregnancy, each blemish burned into her brain.

”You’re beautiful.” His fingers returned to her skin, followed by his lips, soft and sweet, along the same path he’d once traced when their child was still within her. “What we made is beautiful. She’s extraordinary, my love.”

Unable to stand it, she rolled into him, pressing against him until he was on his back again with her strewn half across him.

Deflect. That was all she had left, a half-hearted deflection.

“Marisa-“

“I _literally_ want to sleep, Asriel,” she murmured into his neck, melting into him as his arms wrapped around her. “You’ve exhausted me enough to keep me here. Be content with that.”

The last thing she recalled was his lips against her temple and the security of his arms.


	3. Everyone Has A Motive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’ve decided to veer from following the storyline and go somewhat off script. More of what that entails will be revealed in the next chapter, but until then... I hope someone enjoys this random Marisa Coulter idea that’s been rattling around in my head. I’m not much of an overall plot with tons of research storyteller, but more so an in the moment, emotionally chaotic, storyteller. If that makes any sense...

It was the awful ache that brought her awake. Her arms, legs, neck...  _ everything _ ached.

Then, there was the expectation when she cracked her eyes open that was shattered by the one with which she was presented.

“Mmm,” she groaned, slapping her arm over her eyes, realizing exactly where she was: beneath a blanket, still on the floor, the morning light right in her eyes.

It was in that moment when she felt the shift beside her, but not from the person she’d expected... well, not entirely. What felt like electricity surged along her body as she reached out a hand to thread through Stelmaria’s fur coat.

It was an odd sensation, one she’d felt many times before, but never ceased to revel in. Touching Asriel’s soul... There was such pleasure in it as she couldn’t describe. The first time it had happened, Asriel had nearly dropped to his knees. He’d described it as the most profound mixture of pain and pleasure he’d ever experienced. It hadn’t been long after that she had no longer been able to resist allowing Asriel the touch of her own daemon. For a while, both of them had gotten lost in the experimentation of it; of how far was too far and how deep such connections went. It hadn’t been the first time she’d experimented with the tie that bound her to her daemon, but it had been the first on which she’d embarked with another.

Stel turned her gaze toward her, the golden eyes piercing as she rested her large head on her belly, her purr of satisfaction sending a sweet vibration to her core.

However, before she could consider more fully the allowance by Asriel, murmurs from across the room drew her attention from the leopard and suddenly her body was alert, the tie to her own daemon surging through her.

Abruptly sitting up, Stelmaria growled softly as she was shuffled to the side. After pulling the throw which was casually draped over her around her body, she followed the gaze of her daemon to the sight across the room.

For a moment, it was like Asriel and Oxford were a thousand miles away and she was back in her own room, suffocating in the dark.

_ “What have you done, Marisa?” _ her mother’s voice scolded, eyes piecing straight through her.  _ “What shame have your brought to us, now?” _

“You want to see her, don’t you?” Stel murmured, nudging her side. 

“But he said-“

“He changed his mind,” the leopard cut in, stretching out and pressing her paws into the small of her back.

“I can’t,” she whispered, eyes closing as her nails dug painfully into her daemon’s outstretched hand only to feel Stel push at her harder. _“_ _Don’t.” _

The open window allowed a cool breeze to permeate the otherwise stuffy room as she tried to sort her thoughts and clear the fog of drowsiness. Then, a sound reached her, one of laughter; both Asriel’s and a softer, childlike tone.

Try as she might, she could not stop her heart’s pounding as she made her decision, pulled the blanket around herself, tucking it under her arms, and moved toward them; instinct and pure curiosity leading her.

Asriel’s eyes lifted from his place at the table, no emotion to give way to his feelings present. Leave it to Asriel to choose this moment to abandon her to wonder about his thoughts as her steps became some of the longest of her existence. 

The thought of finally seeing the girl again caused her daemon to stumble and turn to look at her. She ignored him and continued on, leaving him to trail behind her like the ball and chain he was.

She heard her before she saw her. It was a twinkle of laughter followed by something metal hitting the table. When she finally caught sight of the child, it was enough to cause a lapse in judgement as a sigh of joy slipped through her lips. Dark hair framing a tan face, the girl was the image of Asriel right down to the mischievous grin she was baring as she banged a spoon against the table.

She wasn’t sure what she’d imagined the girl to look like. The last time she’d seen her had been at Asriel’s estate, eight weeks after her birth. She’d been so small, then, just a little thing who had clung to her as though she just knew she was her mother; who had been willing to rely on her.

  
And she hadn’t been able to handle it. Asriel had been forced to take her back shortly after setting her in her arms. It was like the baby had contained every sin she’d ever committed in her dark eyes, the shame attempting to swallow her whole. And no matter how much she’d risked by giving her life, risked by going to Asriel’s estate with Edward home, risked by just... wanting her. She couldn’t risk loving her; couldn’t risk _tainting_ her.

  
But, now... Words eluded her, like a mental block was in place preventing any sort of admission from falling from her lips. She suddenly found herself a mix of transfixed and terrified. 

Then, Asriel’s hand was surrounding hers, drawing her gaze to him. When he gave her a nod as if to tell her to do something, she drew in a shaky breath and moved forward, sure she’d never been this nervous in all her life.

“Hello,” she said, conjuring as much joy into her voice as possible considering she felt near to a collapse of emotion. However, it came out more like a cracked whisper than anything else.

Once again, she wasn’t sure what she’d expected to happen, but when the girl grinned and jolted forward, her arms taking hold of her leg as she looked up at her, she felt a jolt of that foreign feeling she constantly fought against swell in her chest.

“Oh,” she chuckled while squatting to the girl’s eye level, being sure to keep the blanket secure around herself. “You’re quite energetic, aren’t you?”

_ Lyra_ _,_ her thoughts whispered, a name still foreign to her tongue; a name she hadn’t uttered since that fateful day. Not even at Asriel’s trial had she been able to bring the girl’s name to her lips.

Lyra’s chubby fingers grasped at her hair, summoning a twinge in her gut at the gesture. It was then that Asriel’s hand tightened around hers, like he was once again afraid she might disappear or run off.

The feeling in her gut made her think she might do just that.

Then, without warning, the girl’s daemon jumped into her lap in the shape of a small, white ermine; the same form it’d shaped into the night Lyra had come into the world. The cries of that night still came to her when she closed her eyes.

As her gaze swept the child, she considered how very little of herself she saw. There had been times she’d wondered if she’d been too hasty in unloading Lyra onto Asriel, but, looking at her now, she knew she could never have passed this dark eyed girl off as Edward’s.

As if reading her mind, Asriel tapped Lyra’s nose and said, “She’s a stubborn, little monkey, that’s for sure.”

The nickname caused a sick twist in her belly, but she ignored it as Lyra dissolved into a fit of giggles and chased after Asriel’s hand, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process.

“Found her practically climbing the walls this morning,” he finished with a chuckle as he caught her hand and helped steady her.

“Pan!” the girl squealed as she spotted the white ermine, who’d changed into a small squirrel as he scurried between her feet.

Lyra, in a fit of giggles, dropped to her knees and began crawling after the daemon under the table.

“Extraordinary, isn’t she?” he whispered against her neck as he pressed his lips along her skin, drawing a wince from her as he sucked at a bruise. “I sometimes find it quite hilarious that we made something so pure from what those fanatics would call sin.”

With the first shock of seeing Lyra again passed, she allowed her thoughts to turn to the devious, heretical man pawing at her. Still, she found it difficult to drag her eyes from the girl long enough to address him, but, when she did, her eyes were cutting. “I know what you’re doing.”

Brow lifted with a small measure of surprise, he challenged, “Do enlighten me.”

“You’re manipulating me,” she whispered dangerously, shoving his hand from her body. “Or, at least, you’re attempting to. Stel, then the girl... did you plot the entire thing ahead of time, or are you making it up as you go?”

Like a flash of lightning, he captured her chin between his fingers, less gentle this time, and turned her to face the storm brewing in his gaze. “You  _ asked _ for this, Marisa.  _ You _ sought her out at the nunnery she was placed in and  _ you _ came here for her. Grow up and stop blaming me for your choices.”

She scoffed and jerked from his grip, disgust with him and herself clawing up her throat. How had she fallen so hard so quickly? He’d drawn her in without her ever being the wiser, completely catching her off guard. He’d used her own tactics against her by bedding her so deliciously and thoroughly before dragging her into this emotional minefield by placing the girl in front of her without any foreknowledge.

If she’d been anyone other than the pawn in his game, she’d have congratulated him on his efforts.

“And her name is Lyra, which you’ve still yet to say.”

“I’m aware of who she is, Asriel,” she snapped, eyes blazing at him. “I was there when she was named. _You_ weren’t.”

A sudden squeal from across the room had both of them whipping around as the girl chased excitedly after Stelmaria who was trying to escape the touch by leaping onto the table.

“Do something with your monkey, Asriel,” Stel grumbled lazily as she plopped her body down and stretched out across the wooden surface. “She’s quite irritating.”

“Which one?” he gruffly asked, rising to his feet.

“Both of them.”

“Kitty,” Lyra whimpered, her little arms tugging at the edge of the table as she attempted to pull herself up.

Stel growled at the name.

“Come here,” Asriel teased, his tone significantly lighter, as he picked Lyra up and threw her over his shoulder like she was a sack of supplies.

With a squeal of what she could only call delight, Lyra waved at her daemon, who’d transformed into a butterfly and was flying around her flailing arms.

It was odd. The Asriel she knew was hard, callous, aggressive, quick to anger and downright rude while still being mesmerizing. But this? Asriel being... fatherly? She felt as though she was having a slight out of body experience. He was too relaxed around the girl, too... content. Had a child really changed him that much? Is that what he wanted from her? Or was it a show in a game still at play?

Disregarding his extended hand, she stood and glared, knowing that touching him was the last thing she needed to do in this moment. She needed to keep her wits about her and put a stop to Asriel Belacqula’s very blatant manipulation.

Chest visibly deflating, he groaned, “Marisa-“

The door swinging open disrupted him and they turned to find Thorold and the Master barging in through it.

“Magisterium officials are-“ Thorold trailed off as his eyes met hers, his face going slack. “Oh, I didn’t know-“

Both sets of eyes stared and she became acutely aware of her state of dress... or lack thereof, and tugged the blanket tighter around herself while conjuring her most even smile, permitting nothing of her discomfort to show.

“Thorold,” she greeted. “Lovely to see you, again.”

“Oh, yes, uhm...” He cleared his throat and gave a brisk nod. “Asriel, we have a problem.”

The Master chimed in as Asriel sighed. “Perhaps, Ms. Lonsdale can take Lyra for breakfast.”

There was another twinge in her gut at the thought of someone taking Lyra, but she suppressed the urge to voice it.

“Right,” Asriel replied, turning to her as though looking for an answer.

When their eyes met, she quickly diverted her own and began walking toward her clothes, which were strewn every which way in front of the fireplace.

She needed to get out of this place, to leave and reclaim some semblance of control over herself.

_“Get out,”_ she heard Asriel bark lowly, no doubt with a scowl on his face.

As she picked up her underwear and slacks and pulled them on beneath the blanket, doing her best not to wince at the bluish-purple bruises splashed over thighs, she heard the door open and close, presumably leaving her with an angry lover.

“Did you bring them here?” he asked, his voice carrying the coarseness she was accustomed to when he was gearing up for a fight.

Good. She’d much rather face an angry Asriel than a simpering, lovesick one.

Pulling on her blouse, she began buttoning it up and replied very simply, “No.”

To be completely honest, she hadn’t the faintest clue as to why the Magisterium was knocking on Asriel’s door, but what she did know for sure was that it wouldn’t do well for her to be caught in a precarious position with him. The last thing she needed was another scandal just when she’d managed to brush off the majority of the ashes from the last one.

“And I suppose I should take your word for it,” he went on, agitation clear.

Then, there was a hand on her arm and she was being roughly spun around. To her chagrin, Lyra was still in his arms, contentedly stroking her daemon who was once again a white ermine; the girl having no clue she was in the arms of a predator ready to snap.

Asriel opened his mouth and closed it just as promptly. Though, that didn’t stop the fire in his gaze from piercing her. He looked every bit the part of an animal with prey in its trap.

The only problem for him was the fact that he wasn’t the only predator in the room. She was no one’s prey.

“Let me go,” she said, calmly and pointedly, controlling every muscle in her face. “This little charade you’ve been plotting is over.”

He shook his head as he stepped so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. “Not until you tell me why they’re here.”

Not allowing him to intimidate her, she jerked free of him and squared her shoulders.

“Don’t be a fool. I didn’t even know you were here and I’ve spent every moment with you since arriving.” She gave him a scathing look, one meant to end this conversation. “I didn’t bring them.”

When the clarity finally shone in his eyes, she took her opportunity to finish him off.

“I wish I had been the one, though. If I’d known you were going to play such a fucking _ridiculous_ game, I’d have saved myself some time and had them waiting outside the door for you.”

“Marisa-“

“What did you think was going to happen, Asriel?” she snapped, shoving at the shoulder Lyra wasn’t occupying. “That you could fuck me into submission and everything would just... what?” She scoffed, paying no mind to the leopard who was now at her feet growling. “Do you really think me that weak of a woman that I would simply _fall_ into your arms like some sort of damsel? That I would be content to just play house with you?”

“Then, why are you still here?” he spat, his fiery gaze unrelenting. “Why did you even bother, Marisa?”

“Because it’s what we do, Asriel! It’s part of the game we play!”

At her shout, Lyra jumped, her daemon falling from her arms toward the ground. Too late, Asriel’s hand darted out to catch the creature who hit the ground with a thud.

Lyra’s subsequent scream caused her own body to jump, her heart dropping at the suddenness of it.

However, what truly threw her off guard was the way her own daemon rushed to the ermine, his black fingers stroking the white fur as he pulled the smaller creature into his arms, the touch like a hammer to her heart.

The suddenness of it forced her to reach out and grip the back of a chair with her free hand as she hunched over, her breath suddenly ragged.

“Marisa,” Asriel called, but his voice sounded like he was miles away, like he was on the other side of a waterfall or radio.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, even as her heart raced away, and smoothed a hand down her blouse as she sucked in an uneven breath, shaking off the unexpected pull on the strings that bound her to her daemon.

“No, you’re not,” he insisted, gently grasping her chin and turning her gaze up to his. “None of this is fine. She needs her mother.”

As if to further his point, Lyra whimpered, eyes red rimmed and wet, and tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Pan.”

“Marry me, Marisa,” he whispered, cupping her face, thumb stroking under her eye and sweeping away the tear she hadn’t even known was there. “We don’t have to pretend anymore.” With a shaky breath, he pressed his forehead to hers. “We can be whatever we want.”

Finding it hard to remember how to breathe, she shook her head, fingers clutching his arms as Lyra murmured between them.

An urgent knock at the door was followed by Thorold’s panicked voice, “Asriel, this is serious. They’re demanding to speak with you immediately. We can’t hold them off any longer.”

Asriel growled as he set Lyra down and stormed toward the door, leaving her to finally find the breath she’d been desperate for. Once he’d yanked it open, he and Thorold fell into hushed whispers and sharp gestures.

Whatever they were saying was lost to her, though, as she felt a tug at her slacks. Upon her gaze falling, she found Lyra looking up at her with that mischievous grin again.

After a quick reassuring glance at Asriel, who was still occupied, she squatted to Lyra’s level. When she was in reach, the girl all but climbed into her lap.

Taking Lyra’s small hands in her own, she rubbed her thumbs over the girl’s tiny knuckles and smiled, knowing this would be the last time she saw her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered softly, lifting one hand to brush Lyra’s dark hair from her eyes. “I just can’t-“

Her words died away as Lyra grinned at her again. So much innocence and trust. She suddenly felt all the more sure in the future of her work; of her new plans she’d been compiling for the past year. That pure innocence present in Lyra’s beautiful face must be preserved at all costs. There was no reason for Lyra to fall prey to the wickedness that had befallen she, herself. Sin was the reason Lyra existed, but it didn’t have to be something to which she fell prey as well.

“Goodbye, Lyra,” she whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to her daughter’s temple, absorbing her scent, before standing with some effort.

With a last glance at Asriel, who was still preoccupied with Thorold, she quietly slipped out the side door, leaving behind in that room any of the genuineness for which Asriel had been searching.

She had added purpose, now. For her whole life, she’d wanted to do something that would change the world, whether it be for personal gain or more recently to outdo Asriel Belacqua.  


But, now... the dark eyes of the child she’d shoved to the back of her mind until this very moment would be her driving force.

Lyra Belacqua would be the reason she changed the world, no matter the cost.


	4. Dangerous Negotiations

The ability to be subtle was a talent on which she often prided herself. The ability to control her expressions, to manipulate a room, were all skills she’d acquired under her mother’s strict tutelage. Hours upon hours which turned into years of staring at her own reflection, controlling the muscles in her face, mastering each smile as her mother looked on, honing her ability.

_ “_ _Sit straighter_ _.” _

_“Too much dimple.”_

_“Say it softer.”_

When she’d tire or, worse, begin a fit of rebellion, her mother would have none of it. Her daemon had been a particularly nasty lizard with a streak of viscousness who had never failed to snap at her own weaker daemon.

Of course, sometimes, she’d thought herself brave and have a bout of courage by standing firm against her mother only to have her daemon, by the end of it, reduced to nothing larger than a kitchen mouse, quaking in fear and remorse.

Then, when she was tired of fighting and on the brink of collapse, her mother would have a servant carry her up to bed and tuck her in. Shortly after, her mother, not a hair out of place, would sit beside her on the bed and feed her chamomile tea while speaking softly to her about why it was important to allow her to guide her and cease in her incessant need to be an emotional child.

She’d hated her mother, then. However, now that she’d grown older, she’d learned to somewhat respect the plans her mother had had for her, the lessons and the chamomile becoming welcome accessories in building her into the woman she was, today.

Powerful. Wealthy. Feared. Desired.

Without her mother’s overbearing demands, she knew it was unlikely that these things would have come to pass.

Now, as she stood on the precipice of having everything she’d worked for the past six years to obtain, she found herself furious with the lack of equal ambition from her subordinates.

“Mrs. Coulter, I don’t think you understand,” Dr. Fields explained, twisting his hands into near extinction as he glanced at Boreal, who’d taken a seat in one of her office chairs, his daemon curled around his arm. “We’re doing all we can-“

“Have the adjustments been made?” she asked, never breaking pace as she continued to her desk and lifted her letter opener before piercing the envelope. “Have you done a _single_ thing I asked you to do?”

“O-of course,” the balding man stuttered as her eyes swept the report. “We’ve made some progress.”

“Only some?” she asked, teeth grinding. “It’s been  _ three _ months of human trials.” She abruptly spun on her heel to face the shorter man, who’d gone slightly pale. “If you can’t deliver the results I’ve asked for, then, I assure you, I can find someone who will.”

Dr. Fields nodded vigorously as he tried to appear unafraid of her daemon who was snarling on her desk. “I’ll begin preparations immediately and allow you to judge our progress for yourself.”

Allowing an even smile, she replied, “Excellent.” She took the few steps required to be in his space and placed the letter opener below his chin. “And Dr. Fields, I believe it is  _ you _ who doesn’t understand. Any further disappointments will not be tolerated.”

When the man scurried out the door, she turned to her desk and set down the letter opener.

“Do you want me to follow him?” Boreal asked, his daemon slithering back up his sleeve. “He might talk.”

“The man is weak and pliant,” she replied, a sort of pleasure churning in her belly from the doctor’s fear of her. “He’ll not be a problem.”

“Then, allow me to escort you back to the party,” he offered, hand held out. “A hostess must entertain.”

With a smile, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her back into the living room which was brimming over with guests.

There were a handful of various influential groups; scholars, scientists, benefactors, and so on as well as some run of the mill trophy wives to keep the evening balanced without falling into too much stuffy political talk. She didn’t truly care to speak with any of them, but the right pockets needed to be filled and she was always adept at doing just that; making sure the right people became acquainted, the right topics discussed.

For what it was worth, in that respect, Edward had been useful... or, at least, his political status had been; the ring she still bore on her finger a constant reminder of the doors he’d opened for her as well as a nice play on sympathy for his plight.

As she was caught up in half listening to a scholar from her own college of St Sophia’s, Boreal leaned close, his voice distinctively coarse, “Did you invite him?”

With a perplexed look at Boreal, she found him scowling at something across the room. Following his line of sight, she found herself at a loss.

Asriel. Lounging against the wall, chatting with a group of scholars like he didn’t have a care in the world. His date, a tall, striking blonde with a fucking bunny for a daemon hung off his arm. Stel sat regally at his side, golden eyes bored as the bunny moved about her feet, clearly oblivious to how completely disinterested she was.

Without bothering to wait for a reply, she excused herself from her guest and turned to Boreal with a hiss, “Find out who let him in and throw them from the roof.”

“Or I could simply throw him from the roof and be done with the matter altogether,” he offered, a sly smile coming to his face.

Her daemon growled low at the suggestion.

“Don’t tempt me,” she sighed, while trying to sort her thoughts.

What was he doing here? He knew better than to do something like this. It was different when he showed up unannounced at galas and other events around the city. They both had similar interests that could be passed off as work. But here? In her home?

It was as though he knew she’d spotted him as his eyes turned to hers, glittering with mischief. Then, ever so slowly, a smirk came to his lips as he lifted his glass toward her like a checkmate.

“Marisa-“

_“What?”_ she snapped, eyes tearing from Asriel’s and blazing toward Boreal, who only lifted his brow in return. Realizing she was losing control, she sucked in a deep breath and gritted through her teeth, “He can’t be here.”

“Well, he seems right at home,” Boreal commented, his daemon teasing its head out of his sleeve, tongue flicking at the air. “Like he belongs.”

“That arrogant asshole doesn’t belong anywhere,” she griped, draining the rest of her champagne.

“Talking about me?” His voice was like silk, a tone that effectively woke her core as she turned to find him grinning at her like he knew it. His eyes never left hers as he added, “Boreal, I see you’re still slithering about.” 

“That’s what happens when you’reinvited,” Boreal replied, his tone even as he placed a hand at her back. “How did you manage to slip in?”

If not for her desire to see Asriel’s feathers rankled, she’d have slapped Boreal’s hand away. With Edward rotting, she’d not be used as someone’s pretty puppet ever again.

Asriel only grinned all the more, his gaze sweeping over her as he completely ignored Boreal, lust permeating the atmosphere around him. “Marisa, you do look exquisite this evening. Even lovelier than that little red number earlier this year at the...Oh, where was it?” He tapped his chin, a devilish smirk forming as she dared him with her eyes. “Ah, yes, the Lecture at Barden Hall.”

Nothing had happened at Barden Hall besides their complete avoidance of each other just as they always did anytime they happened to be at the same event. She’d learned her lesson where he was concerned and never allowed herself to be caught alone with him around.

However, that didn’t stop Boreal from stiffening at her side as Asriel swept up a flute of champagne and held it out to her while taking her empty glass from her hands, his amused expression never wavering. That was to say nothing of the way the leopard and monkey seemed to fall into rhythm at their feet, chattering low amongst themselves.  


“Dismiss the snake, Marisa. We needn’t have him causing a scene.”

“I believe the only one attempting to cause a scene is you, Asriel,” Boreal began, his daemon hissing at Stelmaria who’d saddled up between them. “This is not the place-“

“Carlo,” she cut in, laying a hand to his arm. “I do believe the bunny needs a refill. Do help her.”

Smile ever present, she turned to Boreal with a look that left no room for rebuttal. While he seemed ready to strike at Asriel, he did as told and moved on.

“You’ve trained your little pet well,” he said, chuckling as he took a sip of his champagne.

”Some men are actually capable of following orders.” She snapped her finger at her daemon, beckoning him out of Stel’s ear and back to her side.

”Don’t be hateful, love,” Asriel murmured, stepping closer and holding out his hand, which the monkey reached up to touch, drawing a light gasp up her throat. “There we are. Now, I need-“

“Lord Asriel, you were meant to be getting us drinks,” the blonde from before practically sung as she wrapped an arm through his and gave her a scathing look. “And you were going to tell me about your adventures in Africa.”

Before he could mount a reply, she chimed in with her most innocent of smiles, “Lord Asriel? Forgive me, but I sometimes mix up my titles terribly. Do tell, what exactly are you Lord of these days?”

His chuckle rang out around the room. 

“Oh, Mrs. Coulter, ever the astute one.” A smirk settled over his lips. “Mr. Coulter would be so proud of your still trying to navigate social economics in his absence.”

Damn him. 

Without further reply, she forced herself to turn from him and find another guest to entertain before she throttled him. Whatever Asriel wanted, he could go jump off the balcony chasing it for all she cared.

And she continued doing that for the rest of the evening. If for some reason, he made it into her line of sight, she’d turn her back and find someone new to speak with, digging her heel into her daemon’s tail to keep him in place, relishing in the stab it sent up her spine. Perhaps, it was childish and beneath her, but she honestly didn’t care. Asriel would never get the upper hand with her again.

* * *

“I’m very pleased you enjoyed yourself,” she answered, shaking the hand of one of her last guests.

When the doors finally closed, all smiles fell and she pressed her fingers to her temple in an attempt to relieve her migraine.

One guest left.

Boreal was waiting on the sofa when she returned to her living room. “You are a magnificent hostess.”

Picking up yet another flute of champagne, she didn’t even bother conjuring a smile. “Magnificent seems to be selling it short.”

“Well, I would like to see a few of your other tricks,” he teased, eyes slithering over her figure, leaving very little need to imagine his thoughts.

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” she murmured as she turned to the skyline, ignoring her daemon’s disapproval. “And I bet-“

Her words died on her lips as movement on her balcony caught her eye. She didn’t need to guess too hard to figure out who it was.

“Are you alright?”

“Perfect,” she replied, spinning on her heel toward him. “But I’m afraid I’m sapped. Perhaps, another time.”

However, instead of obliging, he remained steadfastly seated.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, measuring the irritation in her voice as her heart had already picked up pace with the knowledge that Asriel was waiting.

He shrugged, his snake slithering out of its hiding place up his sleeve, its tongue flicking in her direction, probably in search of the monkey, who’d already disappeared to the balcony. “I could ask the same.”

“I assure you-“

“Why was he here?” he asked, eyes cutting at her. “What did he want?”

“He didn’t say,” she replied rather honestly. “We didn’t really speak.”

“A man such as Asriel Belacqua doesn’t show up without wanting something,” he said, seemingly weighing her answer. “He seemed overly familiar.”

Anger rippled through her.

“Are you suggesting I’m sleeping with him, Carlo?” she asked, taking the few measured steps to lean down to his level. “Because I assure you, if I were, it would be _none_ of your business. Do not forget your place.”

The wheels turning in the man’s head were nearly visible. “Asriel Belacqua is your downfall. He always has been. I’m simply trying to protect you. If the Magist-“”

_“Don’t,”_ she snapped, standing up. “I neither want nor need your protection when it comes to my personal life.” She nodded towards the door. “Now...”

He seemed hesitant to oblige, but did so nonetheless.

When she finally had him in the lift, he turned to her, his eyes holding judgement. “Perhaps, you don’t need my protection from the Magisterium, but what of your mother? If she were to learn of your involvement with that man agai-“

“My mother is of little concern to me,” she butt in, cutting him off. “Goodnight.”

When the doors finally closed, she leaned her head against them and groaned.

What could he possibly want? They’d not spoken in six years and she’d done her best to avoid him altogether during any event at which they both found themselves. Anything to avoid a relapse in judgement.

By the time she’d made it to the balcony, he was out of his jacket, a glass of Tokay in his hand, with his feet propped on the table as he reclined in one of her chairs.

“To what do I owe this unexpected, unwanted, and ill advised visit?”

“Oh, Marisa,” he tsk’d at her, gaze playful. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

With a sigh, she leaned against the stone wall across from him, snapping her fingers at her disobedient daemon, who jumped up to gaze down at the busy street below as she dared him to even look at Stelmaria again, who was lounging beneath the table, golden eyes fixed on the monkey. “We’ve never been friends.”

“Well, who can blame me for forgetting? It has been six years of you ignoring me at every event we both happen to attend.” He shrugged as his amusement reached new levels. “I’m beginning to think you don’t like me, love.”

“What do you want, Asriel?” she groaned, already tired of his word games. “You ruined my evening and agitated poor Carlo. Is there anything else you would like to destroy before I show you to the door?”

She was exhausted and in no mood to deal with his antics. Boreal had strained her last ounce of patience and her lagging project was still weighing on her mind. If she didn’t get it up and running soon, the Magisterium was going to cut ties with her.

“You know, you really should rid yourself of that snake, Marisa. He gives Stel a very off putting feeling,” he answered while adjusting his shirt and pulling his tie loose.

“That feeling wouldn’t be manifested from the fact that he regularly fucks me, would it?”

Asriel grinned, tossing the tie onto the table and giving her a pointed look. “Oh, my monkey, if everyone you fucked gave me odd feelings, I’d be drowning in them.”

“Odd words from a man who’s here to gain something from me?” she mused, lifting her glass for another generous sip. “Shouldn’t I be drowning in your flattery at this point?”

He feigned hurt. “And why do you assume I want something?”

“As you said, it’s been six years.” She set her champagne down and crossed her arms. “And you do nothing without purpose. So, out with it.”

“Hmm, I adore how well you know me, Marisa.”

She began to feel her annoyance rising. “If you’re just here to play games-“

“I actually do want something,” he cut in, his eyes appreciatively tracing her over. “A few things actually.”

“Why don’t we focus on the things that are  _actually_ possible,” she hit back with a small smile to which he only grinned all the more.

There was no denying his charm, she’d give him that. Asriel could break through her stony facade quicker than anyone. He could make her feel heavy and light all at once.

“Hugh MacPhail.”

Brow lifting, she was suddenly alert. “Father MacPhail? What of him?”

“He’s a thorn in my side,” he answered with a look of aggravation as he reached forward and lifted a tray of fruit. “I’ve become quite good at persuading people to fund my research projects, but this man, for some reason, has taken an interest in blocking my investors.”

“And you want me to...” She twirled a hand. “What? The man is the Cardinal’s puppy. He lacks ambition and he has no goals other than his blind devotion. I told you your blatant heresy would come back to bite you.”

“Blind devotion?” He chuckled and popped a grape in his mouth. “You would know about that, wouldn’t you?”

A thorn in the side, indeed.

“Asriel, darling,” she sighed as she walked around the table to his side and leaned against it. “What is it,  _precisely_, that you want from me? Besides, my last nerve, of course.”

“Marry me?”

The laugh that slipped though her lips was unexpected and genuine.

“I thought I’d aim high, first,” he went on before shrugging. “Halt his inquiries.”

She regarded him for a moment, taking in his slightly graying hair and the scruff along his jaw. His eyes were still piercing as ever, the crystal blue penetrating her as he waited. Age had matured his looks from boyish to ridiculously enticing and she had to push down the itch to reach out and touch him.

Reaching forward, she took a strawberry from his tray, instead. “I suppose you have a contingency for my refusal.”

There was a twinkle in his eye as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Just a rumor,” he replied, analyzing a grape between his fingers. “About my heresy and how you’ve been...” He popped the grape in his mouth with wink. “Swallowing it.”

She’d slap him if she wasn’t so enraptured by him. It aggravated her to no end how he managed to get under her skin, crawl around, and make it feel good.

Honestly, she couldn’t help but be equally amused. If he thought he was going to threaten her into conceding to his demand, the man had clearly allowed the African sun to fry his brain.

“My appearance in your home, amongst all your... _friends,”_ he went on. “Will prove for a wonderful support to destroying your  _pristine_ reputation.”

The arrogance.

Her daemon jumped onto the table, a snarl escaping him.

“Hmm,” she murmured, bringing the strawberry to her lips and nipping at it while she considered her options.

The rumor of another affair with him would only be the start. It would swell up the gossip circles, eyes would turn to her as journalists began to stalk her again, and then her work... that would be the true loss. Her project would be spotlighted and it would be all over. The Magisterium would pull out of the arrangement and she would be forced to return to the shadows.

“We both know there’s nothing that comes close to mattering to you as much as your _reputation.”_

The way he said it drew her eyes back to him. Disdain had slipped into the end of his little speech.

“Oh, Asriel,” she cooed, placing her hands on either side of him as she leaned so close to him she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. “Don’t tell me you’re still angry with me.”

He scoffed and lifted another grape to his mouth. “You’re not the only woman in the world, Marisa. In case you missed it, I had a beautiful woman on my arm, tonight.”

“Hmm, and yet you’re here with me instead of her,” she sighed, eyes falling to his lips. “I’ll admit, turning my back on your offer of playing happy family was difficult.” She allowed her own devilish smile to appear. “I do love _swallowing_ for you.”

The hard bob of his throat was all she really needed.

“And I mean, honestly, we’d have made quite the power couple,” she dragged on, fingers teasing the top button of his shirt, slipping it through the hole before moving to the next one. “People would have fallen at our feet and our daughter would’ve inherited quite the legacy.”

Righting herself, she plucked another strawberry from his platter.

“But that wouldn’t have made for any fun, would it?” she added. “No challenge.”

“You’re extra evil this evening. Have you been bathing in children’s blood recently?”

Remark landing exactly as she imagined he’d wanted it to, she glared at him. “I’m not sure I know to what you’re referring.”

“I hear you’ve been luring unsuspecting individuals into your little box,” he clarified with a pointed look. “I’m actually quite jealous you’ve thought of it first. Well, I mean I would be if it wasn’t so deranged.” He gave a pointed glance at her daemon. “I couldn’t possibly guess why you’d be interested in ripping souls from their bodies.”

The fact that he even knew about her project unnerved her. If he knew...

“And how did you come by such fiction?” she inquired, eyes studying him for clues, not that she thought she’d actually find any.

He tossed the platter on the table and picked up his glass of Tokay. “You, my little monkey, are the only real challenger I have. Did you think I wouldn’t keep tabs?”

Of course, she did. It wasn’t like the man had been sitting still for the last six years moaning over her departure. He’d been stirring up all sorts of gossip with his talk of multiple worlds and theories on the Magisterium from London to Africa to even America. It’s a wonder he hadn’t been assassinated at this point. Granted, if he were, she just knew he had plans in place to have the Magisterium implicated. They likely knew that, too, which is probably why MacPhail was so interested in him.

“Besides, I saw your doctor leave in quite a hurry earlier,” he went on. “We’ve had a few drinks together in Trollusend. I hear you’re quite the employer.”

Dr. Fields. Wonderful. She’d been waiting for a good reason to have him slip off a cliff.

“Oh?” she laughed, leaning forward to pluck the glass of Tokay out of his hands before bringing it to her lips. “I heard they loved it when I visited. They always seem so  _eager_ to meet my needs.”

Asriel nodded, his eyes following her as she took a generous sip. “I bet they do.”

“Mmm.” It wouldn’t be so bad to have an extra project on the side. She did enjoy getting under MacPhail’s skin. “Fine. I’ll take care of him.”

“And what will I have to do in return?” he asked, arms crossing. 

“I thought your not spreading rumors was your gift.”

His eyes softened somewhat. “Are you going to ask about her?”

It actually took a moment for his question to land. Thoughts of Lyra had honestly not occurred to her. While the girl was something she occasionally thought fondly of, more out of curiosity over what she looked and acted like than anything else, she really didn’t occupy her main focus.

“No,” she replied, eyes uncomfortably leaving his. “I have no need.”

“Really?” he questioned, snapping his fingers to draw her gaze back to his. “Because it might peak your interest to know I haven’t the slightest clue where she is.”

Well, that did get her attention.

“Excuse me?” she snapped, eyes piercing him. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged and leaned forward for another grape. “I left Oxford the day after you. When I returned seven months later, the Master said he’d given her to a family.”

Heart beginning to race, she shoved his feet from the table and took their place in front of him as panic she didn’t realize she could gather crawled up her throat.

“What family?” she bit out. “Why haven’t you retrieved her? You were supposed to  protect her, Asriel.”

He regarded her a moment before nodding to the side. “Let him go.”

Gaze following his, she realized she’d grabbed her daemon’s fur and was squeezing. As though burned, she released the loathsome devil.

“You really should handle that, Marisa.” He nudged her foot with his boot as his legs came around her. “And you’d best fix your face. I see a little concern for the girl creeping into your eyes.” She bristled. “We wouldn’t want anyone to think you actually feel things. What would your mother say?”

Ignoring him, she rubbed a finger against her temple, her migraine returning. “Asriel, where is she?”

“Oxford-“

“But you said-“

“If you’d let me finish,” he chuckled, hands reaching out to smooth around her calves. “She’s with a family, a wealthy one from what I’m told. The Master thought she needed more than old men in robes. So, now she has that.”

If he was expecting her to be relieved, she wasn’t. Lyra being somewhere she couldn’t deem safe herself was not comforting. She may not have been willing to take the girl herself, but that didn’t mean she wanted just anyone to have her.

“Marisa,” he said softly, gaze reassuring. “She’s fine.”

“And how do you know that?” She retorted, eyes closing as she rubbed even harder at her temple. “They could be-“

His hands were suddenly around hers as he pressed into her, his lips replacing her fingers at her brow. Against what would normally be her better judgement if she weren’t so exhausted and perhaps slightly tipsy in light of her overconsumption this evening, she relaxed into his embrace.

“The Master checks in on her from time to time,” he murmured against her skin. “He wouldn’t leave her there if she were in any danger.”

“But-“

“Do you really think I’d leave her there if I didn’t trust she was safe?” he asked, pulling back to catch her eyes. “I may not prioritize her, Marisa, and we may disagree in many things, but I feel we’re both in agreement on the singular fact that Lyra is to be kept safe.”

Unsure of how to respond, she just nodded and melted back into him. He was so warm against the November chill. For the life of her, she didn’t think she’d actually be able to pull away when the time came.

“Come here,” he groaned, unexpectedly sweeping her up in his arms. “You’re exhausted.”

Loathe as she was to admit it, she felt good in his arms, safe. However, that didn’t stop her murmur against his neck.

“I’m not having sex with you.”

His chest rumbled with laughter as he carried her down the hallway toward her room. When he kicked the door open, he replied, “I was simply putting you to bed, but if you’re challenging me-“

“Asriel,” she murmured a light scold, too tired to argue as he set her on the edge of her bed and knelt before her with a grin.

As he began unclasping her heels, she caught sight of their daemons at the foot of the bed curling around one another like they were settling in for the night.

“Well, they’re traitorous,” she whispered, both hating and envying how easily they fell together after so long apart.

“Mhm,” he responded with a light laugh as he stood and leaned around her to unzip her dress. “Your daemon really doesn’t pay you any mind when he’s around Stel, does he?”

She found enough energy to glare at him. “And Stel listens to you?” 

He sighed as he pulled her dress from her shoulders to her hips, leaving her bare, the chill in the room hardening her nipples as she became exposed to him. “Well, that’s another difference between us,” he replied, his eyes delicately tracing her nakedness. “I never cared to hide how I feel about you.”

The hitch in her breath wasn’t intended nor was the rapid blinking her eyes suddenly started doing of their own accord.

“You shouldn’t-“ She shook her head and tore her eyes from his. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why?” he challenged, fingers tucking into her dress to tug it from beneath her. “It’s just us here, Marisa. You don’t have to hide from me.”

“I don’t care,” she snapped, gaze attempting to find anywhere that wasn’t him or their daemons. “Saying those things... every time I let you go on about your feelings...”

His hands slid up her thighs and rested at her waist, his thumbs lightly tapping her hip bones.

“You were married, then,” he softly countered, fingers light against her skin. “And while we’re both still too ambitious and arrogant for anyone other than each other to put up with, we were too young to know how to properly control ourselves, much less our feelings.” His fingers curled around a lock of her hair and pushed it behind her ear. “But time hasn’t changed them no matter how much you deny it or how absolutely off the rails into madness you go. I’m always going to want you, my love.”

As her breathing picked up, she felt the urge to summon her daemon to her hand as a release for the sob threatening to escape. However, before she could, Asriel had hold of her hands, bringing each wrist to his lips.

“There’s no need for that,” he murmured into her skin. “I’ll go. Just don’t hurt yourself.” He paused and leaned in to kiss her cheek, lingering there as he inhaled her scent. “Just forget I said anything. I’m being an arrogant asshole as you would say.”

And with that, he started for the door, Stelmaria begrudgingly growling as she joined him. 

She could have just let him go. It would have been easier that way. But with lack of sleep and alcohol skewing her common sense, she found a plea for him to stay falling from her lips.

“Asriel,” she called after him. “It’s late.”

When he paused in the doorway, his back still to her, she stood and pulled back the bedcovers before climbing in. Whether he chose to go or stay was his choice and she wouldn’t beg him, but she couldn’t stop the dread in her gut of the possibility that he _would_ go. It was like a vice around her throat.

As he wavered in the door, Stel was the one who looked back, her gaze on the foot of the bed where her daemon sat, betraying the loneliness she felt.

It was also Stel who was the first to begin walking back into the room and it didn’t take but a moment for the leopard to jump on the bed and nuzzle her daemon before continuing up the bed to lay across her body.

Asriel still stood with his back to her, but the moment her fingers brushed Stel’s head, he squatted in the doorway, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. The shudder in his shoulders was visible even from across the room.

Deny. Deny. Deny.

Even as her own daemon trotted to Asriel’s side and nudged his way into his lap, she felt herself drawing denial around herself. A surge of pain mixed with pleasure coursed through her as Asriel stood and lifted her daemon to his shoulder as he turned, eyes rimmed red with things she didn’t care to dwell upon lest hers do the same.

By the time he was at her bedside, he’d shrugged out of his shirt and shoes, his eyes intently fixed on hers.

“No more talking,” she whispered, pulling back the covers for him as the monkey jumped down to curl into the leopard, relief and emptiness equally consuming her at the loss of contact between Asriel and her daemon. “And you’re gone before I wake.”

All she received in return was a quick nod as he stepped out of his slacks and crawled in beside her. It took but a moment for his hands to find her and his body, warm and hard, to press into her side as he wrapped around her and nuzzled into her neck like a little boy seeking the comfort of his mother.

The way he breathed her in brought her own hands up to hold him close and she prayed he couldn’t feel the hammer of her heart against his chest.

However, he kept his promise, not a word falling from his lips for hours.

At some point in the night, though, she found herself waking to him softly groaning in his sleep. Lifting her head, she took him in using the soft lights in the corners of her room as a guide.

There was a light sheen of sweat on his brow and even more where he stretched out beside her, their skin sticking together as his legs and arms jerked every so often.

“Asriel,” she whispered softly, placing a hand to his chest. “Wake up.”

When he didn’t, she scooted closer to him and glanced to the end of the bed where her daemon was gently fussing over the purring leopard.

Attention back on Asriel, she pressed close to his ear and whispered again with a slight shake to his body, “Asriel.”

A sigh slipped from his lips as he turned his head toward her. “M’risa.”

A twinge in her gut was her response as he seemed to fall back to sleep after wrapping an arm around her. She’d be lying if she said she never found herself lonely in her bed at night, thoughts lingering on him, wondering where he was, if he was thinking of her, if he missed her.

Gently pressing a kiss to his lips, she laid her hand to his neck, wondering how she’d managed six years without this feeling. They’d been so in tune once, so desperate and needy for the other.

Dragging her mouth over his ear, she nipped at the lobe and whispered his name, delighting when he leaned into her touch and his raspy voice punctured the quiet room.

“I thought we weren’t-“

“No talking,” she hissed, shifting to straddle his waist as she continued her path down the hollow of his throat, one hand tangling in his hair as the other scratched at his shoulder.

The words stopped, but his hands came alive as he smoothed them up her thighs, pulling her firmly against him. Then, he was drawing her face up, lips soft as he teased his tongue along the seam of hers, begging for the entrance she was only too eager to give.

When their breathing began to pick up, he groaned into her mouth as she all but devoured him, grinding the ache in her groin down on his cock as a steady rhythm built between their hips, flowing together as easily as the reckless, young lovers they’d once been.

The fallout of this be damned, she needed him; needed that feeling he summoned from deep in her core that none of her other lovers ever managed to conjure even a sliver of.

A sharp hitch in her breathing gave him control as her core clenched with a particularly delicious pass of his cock through her slickened folds.

“Now,” she moaned greedily against his mouth, pulling away from the hot home she’d found between his lips just enough to urge him on. “Fuck me, now.”

Apparently, he’d been waiting for her consent, because her mind went blank for a moment as he slipped within her, one hand clutching at her hips as the other did his guiding.

A profanity or two escaped him as she sank down, slowly easing him in all the way to the hilt, his other hand now grasping her thigh in a vice as his head arched back into the pillows.

“Marisa,” he groaned, the veins in his neck standing out as he became fully seated inside her aching walls.

A laugh bubbled in her throat as she twisted her hips around him, provoking another groan to tumble up his throat.

“I doubt that bunny would have pulled this out of you so quickly,” she murmured in his ear.

His eyes found hers as she sat back, fingernails digging into his chest. “Who?”

“Exactly,” she replied, hips circling slowly as she sucked and clutched at the piece of him that had never failed to do her bidding.

A chuckle escaped as he sat up and drew her legs around his waist before his mouth found hers again, this time slow and lazy as his fingers wove through her hair, brushing through it like he was an admirer more than a lover.

They quickly fell into a rhythmic game of pushing and pulling, their hands everywhere and mouths never straying far from the others as the sounds of their flesh joining and meeting over and over permeated the room.

Loathe as she was to admit it even to herself, Boreal was right. Asriel Belacqua was her greatest downfall. She’d shoot him in the face if she had to, she told herself, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t miss this; the way he’d infected her so deep inside that only the Authority himself could draw him from her veins. It was like she became drunk off him; his voice, his grin, the way his fingers clutched at her hips, his ragged sighs of pleasure as he moaned into her neck, drowning in her body. 

When she felt his breathing begin to labor and his hips canter in quicker, messier thrusts, she pulled out of their kiss, knowing their time was coming to an end.

“Don’t,” she whispered, fingers twisting in the sweat soaked hair along his scalp, desperation for him to keep going taking hold. “Not yet.” His eyes fluttered as she added breathlessly, “Make it last.”

His hips slowed against hers and she found herself clinging to his shoulders, her face buried in his neck as she felt him trying to calm himself.

“Stay with me,” she murmured into his skin, nails clawing at his shoulders and back to draw him deeper into her own body and keep him from straying from their current pace.

There was this urgent feeling in her gut screaming at her for release, but she pressed it down, knowing if she did, it would be over and she’d have to go back to being disconnected from him. And she just wasn’t ready for that.

“Marisa,” he groaned into her hair after another minute, thighs beginning to tremble beneath her own. “I can’t- Fuck.” His hands gripped at her hips and hair like he was clutching at her for life. “You feel so good.”

“Please, Asriel,” she whispered, on the verge of tears, lifting her head and cupping his cheeks between her hands. “Don’t leave me.”

An anguished cry tore from deep in his chest as he shuddered in her arms, his seed finding its home deep inside her as his head fell to her shoulder, moist with sweat as he panted into her skin.

Still, she clung to him, waiting for his breathing to calm, waiting for him to see how miserably tied to him she’d become again. When he finally tilted his head far enough back to catch her eyes, he swallowed hard.

“Marisa,” he whispered, hand laying against her cheek.

“No talking,” she repeated softly, knowing if he started talking, she’d dissolve then and there.

The side of his mouth lifted in a half smile as one of his hands spread out over her spine and he began lowering her back, drawing a hiss out of her as he slipped from within her.

With her head at the foot of the bed, he leaned forward and kissed her gently, almost reverently, as his hands eased over her, one slipping in her hair and the other under her thigh.

Her toes curled when he began kissing down her neck, his teeth scraping at her skin here and there, catching a nipple and sucking for a moment before he continued his journey south.

She knew where he was going and found her breathing picking up with the anticipation of it as she turned her head to the side to watch him, her fingers tangling in his soaked hair as he came to her belly and paused, his eyes lifting to hers.

Even in the dim light of the room, she knew what he looked like, had memorized it long ago before trials and pregnancies had torn them apart. He was submitting, a rare thing for Asriel. One needed to look no further than his daemon to know the man wasn’t one to cater to anyone. He wasn’t kind or considerate, giving or merciful. He was easily angered and quick to rise to a challenge. Sex with him was almost always violent, leaving both of them bruised and bloody in some way; a problem she’d had keeping from Edward.

Asriel was that way with everyone, all the time... except her. With her, he transformed into an entirely different creature.

Despite their other lovers and all his prowling and arrogant attributes, she knew deep down that he was mated to her for life, that her body was the one he craved; the one he’d kill for. They weren’t predator and prey, but equals in an unfair society.

Worrying her lip between her teeth, she gave him the smile he wanted. As his head descended and her belly began to spasm from his attention, she tried to keep her thoughts clear, focused. However, the longer he went on teasing, the tighter her fingers became in his hair.

“Asriel,” she moaned, cantering her hips toward him as she twisted and turned, burning for him to finish her.

The wet sounds of his breathing and licking soon became accompanied by his fingers twisting in and out of her, scissoring her core deeply before curling against her walls.

“Fuck,” she moaned, arching off the bed as she clamped her thighs around his head and clutched at the bedsheets, unable to catch a decent breath. “Please, just-“

The room became saturated with her heady gasps as she lost control of all her faculties and came hard into his mouth.  


When he’d taken everything from her that she assumed he could, his mouth never left her as he crawled back up her body, still gentle, until he was so close she could smell the thick, tangy scent of her sex on him.

His eyes told all the story she needed to know and she found the words tumbling out before she could stop herself.

“I feel things,” she whispered, hand on his cheek, fingers scratching along the sticky stubble along his jaw.

“Mar-“

“No talking.” Her fingers pressed to his lips. “I still want you gone before I wake, but..” She smiled, genuinely, in spite of herself. “Just don’t ever stop hiding it... please.”

After a moment of just staring at her, rather than attempting to respond, he reached behind him and grabbed two pillows. Once they were in place, he wrapped around her and pulled the covers over them without a word.

* * *

The next time her eyes opened, it was light out and her bed was cold. As she sat up, her gaze swept the room and found him to indeed be gone, the absence twisting deep inside her. However, before further feelings could be aroused, something on his pillow caught her eye; a photograph.

In it was a familiar dark haired girl with equally dark eyes, that mischievous grin on her lips as she sat on a swing.

For a long moment, she simply stared, her eyes memorizing the face of her daughter who’d once again grown exponentially in her absence. Asriel still shined clear in her features and she felt a smile creeping up as she traced her daughter’s beautiful face.

But the more she lingered on the picture, the more a nagging in her gut she couldn’t place formed. Was it remorse? Worry? Fear? The longer she stared at the picture the deeper the feeling tugged.

Her daemon eased up beside her as he, too, stared at the picture. It was only when he jumped up, a startled cry escaping him that she realized what the feeling was.

It wasn’t the girl, but everything else in the picture that was wrong. The swing, the garden beyond, and the brick wall beyond even that. She knew them all as intimately as she knew the name carved into the bottom of the swing.

Marisa Delamare

The room began to close in on her as the realization that Lyra was in the one place she herself had sworn to never return.

“I can’t breathe,” she whispered, fingers desperately clawing at her throat. “I can’t-“

Memory after memory slammed into her, stealing her breath as her mental blocks faltered and fell. A screaming girl. A furious shout. An unwanted touch. Blood everywhere. Her mother...

“M-“

Eyes flashing at her daemon, she slapped him before he could utter more, knocking him clear off the bed.

His recoil was followed by a whimper as he scampered to the far side of the room, leaving her to suffocate under the knowledge of where her daughter was and had been for six years.


	5. Flickers of the Past

_ “Sit straighter.” _

_ Pain surged along her cheek as she bit into the flesh, forcing the retort aching to be released back down her throat. _ _ As she straightened her back, she resumed the piece, her fingers dancing over the keys of the grand piano. _

_ “Too fast.” _

_ Chest restricting, she paused, composed herself, and resumed; slowing her fingers as her daemon jumped to the seat beside her in the form of a brown mink. _

_ “Steady, Isa,” Oz whispered, nose nudging her side, his paws twisting into her dress. “She doesn’t look happy.” _

_ Half way through the piece, the next correction came. _

_ “Chin straight.” _

_ “Don’t,” Ozgroaned, his small voice panicked to no avail.  _

_ A terrible sound came from the piano as her hands slammed against the keys and she spun on the bench, eyes blazing. _

_ Orbs of gray steel met her, piercing her with their intensity as her mother ever so slightly raised her brow as if asking if she was really going to do this._

_ “Something to say, Marisa?” she asked, voice smooth as silk as she laid a perfectly manicured hand over the back of a chair and curled it into the golden-red brocade._

_ Heat rose to her cheeks as she grit out, “I’m finished with this lesson for the day, mother.” _

_ Never flinching, her mother replied, “There are still seven minutes left to your lesson. You will use them all.” _

_ “No,” she snapped back, shoulders squared for what she knew was coming. _

_ Oz whimpered, his dark eyes desperately searching his surroundings as he scurried up her shoulder. _

_ “No?” her mother questioned, still unmoving as she clarified. “Are you sure?” _

_ Throat gone dry, she narrowed her eyes and gathered her rebellion around her heart like a suit of armor. “I’ll not play another note.” _

_ “Hmm.” It was nearly imperceptible, the lift to her mother’s mouth as her head tilted ever so slightly. _

_ Then, out of nowhere, Oz was violently torn from her shoulder, falling to the ground in a heap clutched in the jaws of her mother’s daemon. _

_ A scream built in her throat as her nails dug into the wood beneath the lip of the bench, but she held it down, allowing the pain to seep out through her fingers as she clutched at the wood. _

_ Oz wailed and futilely struggled against the reptile, the creatures claws claiming his shoulder and pressing it into the wooden floor. _

_ “Isa!” he pleaded, eyes begging her to make it stop. “Isa, please!” _

_ It felt like her stomach was being pulled up through her throat as Oz transformed from mink to cat, his claws scratching out at the lizard to no avail. _

_ “Six minutes of lessons left, Marisa,” her mother reminded, tone bored as she took a step forward and settled into the chair, legs crossing as she picked up her cup of tea. “Make your choice of which you’ll continue.” _

_ The flutter of her eyes could not be helped as she lifted her chin, defiance burning bright. _

_ “Your daemon is undisciplined,” her mother remarked, lifting her tea to her lips. “Weak. You’ve done nothing to bring him under control. If you can’t control him, you’ll leave yourself vulnerable to attack.” _

_ Oz whimpered as he shifted again, this time into a white mouse, trembling and defeated. _

_ Eyes closing, she imagined Oz and herself far away, somewhere warm; somewhere her mother couldn’t find her; somewhere she would have the power. _

_ When the pain finally stopped, she shuddered and felt her shoulders give as she tilted forward, the six minutes having felt like a lifetime. _

_ “Now,” her mother said cheerily, the sound of her standing drawing her eyes open. “Time for dinner.” _

The large manor loomed ahead, unchanged from her last memory of it a decade ago; vines creeping up the sides of the house, their white blooms giving the manor an antique feel.

_”Stop,”_ she hissed at her daemon as he scratched at the leather in agitation, always the visible traitor to the chaos swarming within her.

When his head bowed in submission, her eyes fell closed and she focused on the crunch of the gravel beneath the tires of the car, allowing the consistency of it to calm her breathing.

There were a slough of reasons she’d swore to never return to this place. Overcoming them, though, wasn’t nearly as difficult as the real problem. It wasn’t that she was afraid of her mother, quite the contrary. It was more so an apprehensiveness to being on short notice with no real plan of action in mind. Such lack of preparation left room for control of her emotions to be lost, something on which her mother always made sure to capitalize.

Weakness was simply unacceptable. 

The car ride from London to Oxford had been just over two hours, leaving her with next to no time to determine what she actually intended to do with the newfound information she possessed and too much time to dwell on the past, leaving her with a migraine and no solution with which she was comfortable.

Alerting Asriel had immediately come to mind as she’d clutched the picture to her chest and risen from her bed, the ache of him still lingering on her skin. With the sun still low in the sky, she knew he wouldn’t have been far gone. There was good chance she could catch him.

However, before she could exit her room, the idea had already been stricken from her list as she came to the conclusion that the man was more likely to strangle her mother than anything else; his rage deep seated and long lasting from even before their affair had come to light.

_ “Why are you like this?” he shouted, hands thrown in the air, chest pulsing wildly. _

_ Heels in hand, she sat on the edge of the bed and began pulling them on as though she were the only one in the room; at least, the only one with any sense. _

_ “Marisa,” he growled, stalking toward her and ripping the second heel right out of her hand. “I asked you a question.” _

_ Eyes cold as ice, she met his fire, determined to convey in one look all the consideration she was giving his ridiculous inquiry. “Yes, Asriel, you did.” _

_ It was like watching a volcanic eruption. The words settled deep within him. Then, ever so slowly, the clench of his fist led to sharper breathing, and eventually his mouth twisting in what she could only describe as a snarl. _

_ “Asriel,” Stel said, tone warning as she circled between them. “It’s time to let her go.” _

_ The hotel room was dimly lit, casting shadows over Asriel’s dark features, making him seem all the more intimidating... not that the man needed any help. _

_ “You’re the most fucking exasperating woman I’ve ever met,” he shouted, slamming her heel into the floor. “Why can’t you just-“ _

_ “Just what?” she bit at him, matching his fire as her nails dug into the bedclothes. “Unless you’ve forgotten, let me remind you that I have a husband, Asriel! And he’s no doubt looking for me downstairs as we speak while you’re standing there making it seem as though we have all the time in the world.” _

_ The roll of his eyes wasn’t missed as he turned and kicked her heel clear across the room where it thudded and bounced off the wall. _

_ “You’re acting like a child,” she added as she pushed herself up, annoyance with his antics seeping into her tone. “I have to go.” _

_ “That spineless idiot isn’t the reason I’m angry, Marisa,” he explained, spinning on his heel and fixing her with a glare so hard that it would have surely halted another in their tracks. “You are. I’m exhausted with your flitting back and forth between acting like none of this matters to you and your closing up like a fucking clam anytime the slightest indication that you give a shit about me pops up.” _

_ Eyes leaving his, she sighed and began walking to pick up her shoe. As she did, she felt his heated gaze on her, but she’d not acknowledge it. He was pushing against a wall he had no business even being near and she had no mind of seeing it crumble. _

_ “I watched you with her, tonight,” he went on, the words dripping with contempt. “You never show a loss of control to others, but, tonight.... tonight, you came undone at the seams at the slightest look from her.” _

_ “This has become too much,” she cut him off as she turned to him, fully dressed and fully ready to climb out of the hole into which she’d dug herself. This had gone too far and she needed to undo it. “And I believe we’ve reached the end of this particular... arrangement.” _

_ A laugh tumbled out of his mouth as he turned and ran his hands through his hair, the lot of it in disarray from the heated joining they’d only just pulled themselves out of. “You’re fucking unbelievable.” _

_ “You’ve become too attached and reckless,” she began only to have him dangerously stalk toward her, eyes aflame with intended violence. _

_ When he reached her, his hands shot out to her waist in a vise as he shoved her into the wall so forcefully that a gasp slipped between her lips and she was forced to catch her breath. _

_ “I’m too attached?” he growled, fingertips biting into her side and neck as he hotly panted against her. “I’m the one who’s too reckless?” _

_ Chest heaving against his, she recovered quickly and returned his bite with her own as she dug her nails into his arms. “Yes, you were a bit of fun and now I’ve grown bored with you.” _

_ “No,” he went on, eyes glinting with madness. “For the first time, everything makes so much sense.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “It’s your mother. She’s the reason you’re this way. She’s the one who pulls your strings, isn’t she?” _

_ Warning swept through her as she dug her nails so deep into his arms, she knew blood would surface. “Asriel-“ _

_ “You were the reckless one tonight, Marisa,” he whispered emphatically, voice softening as he lifted a hand, his fingers dancing along her mouth. “You’re never reckless and tonight you teetered on the edge of asking to be caught.” _

_ A slight tremor escaped her as she gripped him, feeling exposed, like he was examining her every cell under a microscope. _

_ Tonight had been a disaster. There’d been a gala. Edward and she had attended as had Asriel. There was nothing out of the usual for the three of them to be in close proximity, but then her mother had unexpectedly shown up, all deceptive charm and glamour. _

_ And she hadn’t needed to say a word to know her mother had seen right through her facade of dutiful wife when Edward had introduced Asriel to her; that sickly sweet smile sliding to her lips as she took Asriel’s hand and made it a point to give him a once over before turning to her with that sparkle of knowledge she knew would come for her the moment they were alone._

_ The rest of the evening had progressively gotten worse as her mother had cut her off at every point which of course she’d made a game out of, partaking of a generous sip of wine every time her mother exerted her control. Before long, she’d found herself defiant and in full out rebellion as she’d pulled Asriel into an elevator, his hotel room on the 15th floor in her mind’s eyes as she’d started on the buttons of his shirt before the doors had even slid shut. _

_ “Marisa,” he whispered, the earnestness in his voice effectively drawing her eyes to find his gaze soft with sincerity. “Whatever she’s done to twist you, to make you feel less than the masterpiece that you are... none of it matters.” He sighed and pressed his brow to hers, grip on her now gentle. “You’re buried so deep inside me.” _

_ Breath catching, she blinked at him as her grip slackened, allowing him to practically mold into her body. _

_ “Every corrupt, devious, malicious thought in your head,” he continued, brushing his lips to her cheek. “Every freckle, wicked smile, and icy glare.” _

_ “Stop,” she managed to murmur, hands falling to her daemon’s fur as he crept up beside her, needing to gather control. He’d trampled over the precise boundaries she’d created for them and was venturing into forbidden domains. “Don’t do this. You’re not supposed to-” _

_ “Deny it all you want,” he said softly, one rough hand covering the one clutched in her daemon’s fur as the other cupped her cheek, stroking too gently for a man of such a brutal and aggressive nature. “I don’t care what lie you tell yourself about how I feel, but you will not pretend as though we’re nothing.” He tilted his head to catch her eyes as he pried her fingers free of the groaning creature. “You will not pretend as though we can breathe without each other.” _

_ “Asriel-“ _

_ “We have no equals, Marisa. And no one is more beautifully, treacherously...” His eyes fell as his hands slid down her neck and began slipping her dress from her shoulders, a mix of tenderness and possession intertwining to leave her beyond lost. “Magnificent than you.” _

_ As she was left exposed, no part of her was left untouched by his unquestionably worshipping gaze. He’d gone from caged animal to completely enamored lover in the span of a few minutes and she had no defense against the sudden shift. _

_ “She’s nothing compared to you.” His eyes returned to her, a wild, untamed darkness swirling in their depths as his hands moved over her skin, burning her at every connection of their flesh. “And I’ll rip apart anyone who says otherwise.” _

No. Asriel could never know.

Asriel would tear the world apart for her and rearrange it to her liking. One mother wouldn’t stand a chance against such devotion.

The notion to demand the Master retrieve Lyra had come to mind next, but she had quickly moved beyond that as the man was well aware of who had her. This path would also inevitably lead Asriel to her mother.

More time could likely have been spent conjuring other ideas, but she was beginning to realize that there was no time she’d be willing to give. Her impatience to know the fate of her child had won out and here she found herself; at her mother’s door with not the slightest clue as to what she was going to do.

“Mrs. Coulter?”

Startled out of her thoughts, she found the driver holding the door for her, his hand extended.

As she took it, she gave the man a small smile before her eyes ventured over the manor’s many windows, eventually settling on the large, red door.

The knocker on the door had always been of interest to her as a girl as it was in the shape of her mother’s daemon and she’d often wondered with childlike delight if one day it would be replaced by her own daemon’s shape, trading out the lizard for the monkey.

_Not likely_, she thought to herself.

When the door opened, she was only slightly surprised to see Steven, the same butler from her childhood, at its center. Even as a girl, she’d thought the man close to death, always teasing her brother with the idea that the man had struck a deal with the devil for eternal life. From that point forward, Marcel had deftly avoided the man for weeks any time she brought it up.

“Oh, Mrs. Coulter,” he greeted, his glassy eyes lighting up. “This is a wonderful surprise.”

“Hello, Steven,” she returned, extending her hand for him to take and giving no sign to the chill his clammy, cold hands gave her. “It’s been quite some time.”

“Well, yes, quite some time, indeed.” He held the door wide for her to enter. “Your mother will be thrilled to see you.”

She gave a sly smile as she shed her coat and handed it to him, gaze already flitting around the room and the man becoming an after thought. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll be delighted.”

The man had clearly forgotten the many screaming matches and murderous words her mother and she had exchanged throughout her youth. It had often been Steven who’d carried her up to her room after a bout of struggles against her mother, locking her in her room on the occasions she’d remained infuriated by the woman; clawing at the door like an animal as her daemon begged her to stop before she’d learned to silence him the way she’d wished she could silence her mother.

“She’s in the drawing room,” he offered. “Young Lyra is amidst a music lesson.”

So, she was. The sound of the grand piano floated through the air as she made her way across the foyer toward the arch of the drawing room. As she passed the staircase, her eyes ventured up it to the second floor where her room used to be.

She briefly wondered if that was where her mother had placed Lyra. Honestly, she wouldn’t be shocked if the girl was being forced to live in the basement so great was her mother’s disdain for the very thought of her bastard.

_ “There will be no discussion,” her motherscolded, fingers tight on the back of the chair, red nails a stark contrast to her pale skin, like blood on snow. “When the courts inquire as to the bastard’s future, you will inform them that the shame of keeping her would be too great; that it would interfere with your progress to repentance.” _

_ Everything seemed so foggy as she pressed her face into her palm, trying to focus her thoughts on anything she could grasp. _

_ “Mother, I don’t think-“ _

_ “I have not asked what you think, Marisa,” her mother snapped, voice low and threatening a storm of retribution should she disobey. “Your lack of proper thinking is why we’re here and you will tow the lines I feed you from this point forward.” _

_ “Mother, perhaps, we should allow Marisa to rest,” Marcel commented, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder and doing nothing for the bile she felt was at the back of her throat. “She’s had a trying day.” _

_ “A trying day?” Her mother repeated before snapping her fingers in front of her face, producing a sudden flinch from her. “Look at me, Marisa.” _

_ With a shake of her head, she closed her eyes tighter, needing desperately for the world to stop spinning, for the ache in her heart to cease. _

_ Then, a hand was painfully gripping her chin, jerking her face up and eyes open as nails bit into her flesh. _

_ “From this point forward, when I tell you to do something, you do it.” Her gray eyes hardened with viscous contempt. “Is that understood? Your mess will cost us all dearly if we do not get ahead of this. I will have none of your rebelliousness, today, or any day that is to follow.” _

_ “What did you put in my tea?” she murmured, breaths coming shorter as she felt a fresh cascade of tears sliding down her cheeks, her world spinning and breaking like waves against jagged rocks. _

_ As if she was a newborn herself, her mother’s fingers eased their bite and began to caress her cheek, voice softening to silky smoothness. “Just something to help you relax.” _

_ “Where’s Lyra?” she asked, brow furrowed as the image of her baby came to mind, slamming into her as she realized Asriel’s arrest had left Lyra alone. Heart hammering, panic welled from deep beneath her skin. “Is she-“ _

_ “That name,” her mother all but growled, nails biting further into her flesh than before. “Is stricken from your mouth. You will not utter that bastard’s name again so long as I live.” _

_ “The girl is under the care of nuns,” Marcel offered gently, squatting at her side and taking one of her hands, his voice a stark contrast to their mothers. “She’ll remain there until a decision is made at the trial.” _

_ “That arrogant, insolent man nearly killed the police as they took the girl,” her mother added, disgust creeping into her tone as she let go of her and backed away to fix her rings. “Edward was a fool for going there. He should have known better than to confront a man like Asriel alone.” _

_ “I don’t understand why Asriel’s under arrest,” she murmured as she once again tried to focus her thoughts. “It was self-defense.” _

_ “By law, Edward had the right,” Marcel answered, stroking the back of her hand softly. “Asriel violated you.” _

_ As though burned, she jerked from her brother’s touch and snapped, a sudden instinct to displace him overcoming her. “I made a choice. There was no violation.” _

_ “Of course, Marisa,” her mother replied as if she was now bored of the subject. “We know exactly what you did, you arrogant, ungrateful girl, but the courts will never hear that uttered from your lips because in their eyes as well as everyone else’s,you will be the victim of an overzealous heretic.” _

_ A sob stuck in her throat as she dug her nails into the cushion of the chair so deeply that her daemon jumped to the arm, staring at her mournfully as he worried the sleeve of her robe. “No.” _

_ “You’re pushing her too hard,” Marcel warned, rising to his feet. “You know how she is when you try to force it. She needs time to process what’s happened, today.” _

_ Her mother bristled, her expression bordering on savage. _

_ ”Yes, Marcel, let us take the time to allow Marisa to rest. While we do so, we’ll ignore the fact that the Magisterium will be knocking on that door at any time to pepper her with questions as to her involvement in the murder of her husband.” _

_ “She wasn’t there-“ _

_ “You think that matters? All it will take is one suggestion from Belacqua that Marisa asked him to do this. They’ll crucify her along with him.” _

_ “He won’t say that,” she whispered, drawing her arms around her legs. “He-he’d never-“ _

_ “So, the two of you have never discussed it?” her mother asked, stepping toward her, expression now bordering on amused. “Not once have you ever made the suggestion that life would be better with Edward out of the way?” _

_ The pause was enough for her mother to raise an eyebrow and turn to Marcel who began to pace, his hand nervously running through his dark hair. _

_ “Belacqua may have his name and wealth, but he’s also a well known heretic. No one will put any stock in what he says.”  _

_ “His being a heretic is exactly what makes him so unpredictable,” her mother retorted. “There’s no telling what will fly out of the man’s mouth.” _

_ “You don’t know him,” she defended, gaze hardening at her mother. “He’s not that kind of man.” _

_ “Not that kind of man?” Her mother waved a hand at her and laughed sardonically. “Well, do tell, darling, what sort of man knowingly pursues a married woman, impregnates her, and then murders her husband? Next, you’ll say he’s honorable.” _

_ “Of course not,” she snapped, her muddled thoughts pressing on her. “He’s arrogant and quick to anger, but he won’t say a word against me. He-“ _

_The words died in her throat as she felt her eyes cloud over again and another sob build in her throat, her daemon whimpering as he pressed into her arm, worriedly patting her robe. _

_ “Loves you?” her mother taunted. “Is that what it is, Marisa, that led you to throw away everything we’ve worked your entire life for? Is that the lie he whispered to you? The lie you whispered to yourself?” _

_ “No,” she all but whimpered, rubbing at her temple, desperate for relief, for sleep. She just needed to sleep. “We, he-.” _

_ “He seduced her, then.” _

_ Marcel turned to them suddenly, his snowy owl gliding down to rest on the back of the sofa, it’s intent gaze fixed on her and for a moment she could have sworn she saw delight pass through its features._

_ “Forced it, even. She said herself he’s violent. It’ll be an easy argument. I’ve seen him have fits myself as have many others. The affair was short lived and the father of the child unknown. She prayed to the Authority to make the child her husband’s and admits to the courts that she must bare the shame of the Authority’s rejection by ousting the child and relinquishing her rights. It will be her penance.” _

_ Her mother turned to her, expectant, but she only closed her eyes and shook her head again. When she gave no response, her mother leaned close, the scent of her flowery perfume making her ill. _

_ “You’re not a mother, Marisa. You know it as well as I. You are not capable of truly loving anything or anyone. That child is nothing but sin in the flesh and will be a constant, visible reminder of your own weakness to you and everyone who sees you.” Her mother stroked her cheek, wiping at a stray tear as her voice softened, “She will be better served elsewhere, somewhere far from the public eye, and in a few years this will all be forgotten and you may continue to thrive as you were always meant to.” _

“Chin up,” came the even voice of her mother as she stepped through the archway to find her in her usual place beside the chair, back impeccably straight and hair up in a graying bun. “There you are. Perfect.”

The room was little changed and the grand piano exactly as she’d last seen it, only instead of her at its bench, another dark haired girl was its occupant; though, in a less straight backed position and hair down to her shoulders rather than pulled back as her mother had always insisted.

_ “It’ll draw more attention to your eyes and neck,” her mother had whispered as she pulled her hair back in a clip, eyes on hers in the vanity, twisting it as only she could. “This style will do you well one day.” _

Even from this distance, after all this time, she felt that odd pull again, that nervous energy she’d gone without for six years. Apparently, Asriel wasn’t the only one capable of taking her completely off guard after so much time.

A few missed notes caught her ear as she forced herself deeper into the room, still out of her mother’s eye line.

“Good grief, child,” her mother sighed, finger to her temple. “You play as though you’re a blind girl fumbling around in a china shop.”

“More like a mouse as it avoids traps along the counter,” she challenged, coming to a stop behind the sofa, her softest smile pulled on like armor around her.

Both heads whipped toward her, one surprised and the other stunned.

“Marisa,” her mother greeted after a beat, recovering quickly as a slow smile creased her red lips. “This is unexpected.”

But that was just like Diana Delamare. Never one to be down for long.

“Oh, I’m sure,” she returned, smile holding before her gaze drifted to the girl, who, for her part, seemed entranced, her dark eyes dancing between her and her daemon, who was currently drawing closer to Lyra, betraying her current, inner state.

“You must be Lyra,” she said, smile warming as she diminished the steps between them at a steady pace even as her heart raced away. “I must say, you’ve grown quite a bit since our last meeting.”

Lyra’s eyes widened as her daemon, a familiar white ermine, climbed to her shoulder, his eyes intently staring at the monkey, who was now at her feet.

“We’ve met before?”

“Oh, yes,” she reassured, taking a seat on the bench beside her daughter while ignoring the delight that consumed her at the sound of the girl’s voice. “Though, you were only a little thing, then.”

“Marisa.” Lyra’s eyes lit up as she looked between her and her mother, every bit of her reflecting Asriel’s enthusiasm. “You’re Madame Delamare’s daughter!”

“Yes,” she laughed softly as her gaze shifted to bite into her mother’s steady one, still sickeningly sweet as ever. “That would seem to be the case.”

Her mother, controlled as ever, added, “Marisa sat where you are for many years of lessons, Lyra. She’s a wonderful pianist, now.”

“Really?” Lyra exclaimed, nearly jumping off the bench. “You played _this_ piano?”

“Not nearly as diligently as you were just then,” she assured, smile bright as she turned back to Lyra and leaned in to conspiratorially whisper, “Though, most of the time, I, too, was also a mouse evading a trap.”

Lyra grinned and turned to her mother. “I definitely prefer being a mouse to a blind girl. At least, there’s the possibility that I could change into something more...” She tapped her chin as though searching for the word. “Graceful? Elegant?”

At Lyra’s scrunched face, she laughed and felt her fingers acting of their own accord, reaching up to push some of Lyra’s hair behind her ear. “I have no doubt you’ll do just that.”

It would have been easy to get lost in committing the girl to memory, into taking all the familiar facets of Asriel and herself and solving the puzzle of who the girl bore more resemblance to. Asriel would win physically, of course, but there was something there... something that was definitely hers.

“Lyra,” her mother said as she took a seat in the chair, effectively interrupting her trance and ruining the moment. “Since your lesson has been interrupted, go and tell Steven we’ll be taking tea early.”

“No more for today?” Lyra asked eagerly, body bouncing with energy.

“We’ll make up for it, tomorrow,” her mother answered to which Lyra deflated. “Now, the tea. Then, you’ll head straight to your room and read the sonnet you avoided yesterday.”

Lyra jumped up from the bench and began dashing toward the door, her daemon leaving her shoulder and shifting into a sparrow as he followed in her wake.

“Walk, Lyra,” her mother sighed as the girl passed her in a rush. “Young ladies don’t run through the house.”

Lyra stalled her pace just long enough to reach the door before tearing out of the room as soon as she was through it.

Gaze lingering in the empty archway, she felt a small smile come to her face. Oh, how deep the Asriel ran.

“I must say, Marisa, I knew this day would come sooner or later, but I thought I’d have a little more warning.”

All smiles and sentimentality vanished, her gaze swept to her mother’s like flame meeting iron.

Rising from the bench, she took the rest of the room in, from the crystal vases to the burgundy drapes, barely any of it having changed. Growing up in this house had not been one of a literal wealthy existence so much as a perceived one. Her mother had spent countless hours making sure everything looked just so to any guest they entertained, wanting to make them seem a class above what they actually were.

_ “The truth is trivial, Marisa. It’s all about perception.” _

“You really should hire a decorater, mother,” she commented, lazily dragging her finger along the mantle. “This place feels like a mausoleum.”

The sigh could be heard across the room.

“Marisa, dear, you’re a little old to be testing your mother’s nerves so.”

“Hmm,” she chuckled and turned to the woman, a picture of charming mockery. “And you’re a little old to be playing games.”

The raise of an eyebrow was the only response she received.

“Although, I must admit,” she went on unhurried, hands weighing, palms up. “I haven’t quite caught on to what game you’re playing here. As I recall, you called her a bastard, said I was never to see her, said I was never even to say her name again.” She waved her hand around in mock confusion. “Yet here she sits, playing piano and reading sonnets as though she might actually be your grandchild.”

“She is, by definition, a bastard, Marisa. I’m not being petty by using the word.” Diana gestured to the seat beside hers. “And, quite honestly, you’d think you were one as well with your lack of manners. It’s impolite to stand when speaking of such matters.”

“Don’t you fucking dare talk to me about manners,” she spat, nails digging into her palms as her daemon skulked around the furniture, eyes searching for his nemesis.

“Well, clearly, it would be a waste of breath,” her mother mused as she folded her hands in her lap.

Just then, the front door opened and closed, heavy footsteps echoing against the tiled floor.

“Mother, you’ll never guess what-“ Marcel paused in the doorway, blue eyes wide as his owl soared in and settled on the back of the sofa. “Marisa.”

Allowing an unsteady breath to escape her, she let this new knowledge sink in and fixed her brother with a hard glare. “And you... Of course, my other half, mother’s favorite chew toy.”

“I-“

“Oh, don’t start with your brother, Marisa,” her mother scolded as Steven entered with the tea. “You know he’s too weak to stand against you.”

Marcel deflated before continuing into the room, less rush in his step. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, mother.”

“So, who’s bright idea was it?” she asked, gaze dancing between them as she gestured to the second floor. “Who do I have to thank for this headache? For this _absolute_ overstep of boundaries? We had an agreement that if I played your game at Asriel’s trial, you would leave Lyra be.”

Diana scoffed while Marcel fidgeted uncomfortably, pulling at his necktie.

“You only have yourself to blame, Marisa,” mother answered, sipping at her tea. “When you proved you couldn’t be trusted to stay away from them as you promised you would.”

Her daemon jumped to the back of the sofa and began to pick at it in agitation as he glared between them all.

“I’m not sure-“

“Oh, its too late to start lying, now,” mother cut in, eyes piercing. “Your little adventure to Jordan nearly cost you everything you’d worked to regain and for what? Base gratification? The slight echo of a maternal feeling?”

Pursing her lips, she nodded her head and allowed her eyes to wander to the window which she moved toward, needing a distraction to gather her thoughts. Of course, her mother had always made it a game of spying on her, attempting to catch her off guard in some perceived attempt to strengthen her.

“I imagine your brother’s growing reputation within the Magisterium never factored into your lust filled night either.”

Rolling her eyes, she brought a hand to her temple as a headache began to build. “Of course not, mother. I’ve never given Marcel’s little grasps at power any thought.

The ruffle of feathers was her pitiful brothers only defense.

“The girl had to be moved before that man drew you into his sinful lifestyle and heresy again. So, I sent your brother to fetch her after Asriel had departed. It took some managing with the Master, but I knew with her out of Jordan, the temptation would be removed for the both of you and you could return your focus to your work.”

“Hmm.” Movement in the corner of her eye brought her gaze up to the roof where she discovered Lyra sitting cross legged, reading some book outside her old bedroom window. “So, in the meantime, what? You decided to start over?” She spun to her mother and held out her hands mockingly. “Try to make a better version of me in case I failed your ultimate expectations?”

“Please,” her mother scoffed as though she’d just insulted her. “The girl’s a wild animal with an insatiable curiosity that simply cannot be dampened. All the lessons in the world won’t make her into much more than an outspoken woman with an inherited streak for lying.”

Marcel chuckled as he took a seat and gave her a playful look. “Not to mention the fact that she actually has a heart.”

A sliver of annoyance slipped down her spine as her gaze settled on her brother.

“Oh, my darling Marcel,” she lamented, finally taking her own seat and languidly resting herself, a predatory smile appearing on her lips. “If I had no heart, I’d have strangled you in your sleep long ago with little effort and little care.”

All smiles gone from him, she turned to her mother once more. “You can’t honestly believe I’ll leave her here for you to brainwash.”

“And what will you do with her? Send her back to Jordan with all those old men? She’s growing into quite a beautiful, young girl. You should know better than anyone what dark thoughts a pretty girl will conjure in weak men.”

Bristling despite herself, she clenched her jaw as her teeth began to grind.

“Maybe you’ll offer her to Asriel.” Her mother weighed her hands. “But he’s a little too preoccupied with attempting to tear down everything you believe in to play daddy. Now, where does that leave you?”

Diana lulled her head in thought.

“Oh, yes, you’ll pick up raising her, yourself?” Her mother laughed as she sipped her tea. “I’d love to see you make the attempt, Marisa, I really would.”

Before she could make response, her mother laughed all the more, tilting her head back as though thoroughly amused. “Oh, to see you explain the train of men in and out of your bed, the murder, the absolute disregard for other’s feelings.” Grey eyes lingered on her, smile light. “Your predilection for pain and torture will have the girl more confused and twisted than even you by the end of it.”

Nails biting into her chair, she shook her head, defiance smothering her. “All thanks to you, of course. Everything I am is because of you and your incessant need to control my every thought.”

“Oh, my daughter,” her mother sighed. “You’ve always loved to think that, haven’t you? You’ve never wanted to admit you were just a bad seed from the start who needed controlling, needed direction.”

Marcel groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “Mother, not this.”

“Well, if she’s going to bring it up, we may as well dig in, shouldn’t we?” She set her tea down and held out her hands between them. “You weak boy. After nearly killing you in the womb, you still defend her. She came out perfectly healthy, not even a tear to be shed as you fought for your life, severely malnourished. When she didn’t even cry, I knew right then what a problem she’d be.”

“You’re absolutely mad,” she replied, eyes focused on the woman who’d haunted her steps for thirty-one years. “You hated me from the start.”

“Hated you?” Her mother echoed, looking at her like she’d never seen her before. “Dear girl, I did everything I could think to draw the wickedness out of you, to establish some sort of consciousness in you, but nothing worked. You never cared about anything. The only thing that ever contented you was an insatiable need to control everything and everyone around you.”

“There’s that pot calling the kettle black, again,” she snapped, ignoring the growls of her daemon now at her feet. “Sit _straight,_ Marisa. Chin _up,_ Marisa. Not like _that,_ Marisa. _This_ way would be better. Oh, Marisa, why can’t you be more like your _sweet, innocent_ brother?”

“Is that how you remember it?” Diana asked, leaning forward. “You did everything you could think to disobey; from deliberate manipulation to torturing the servants into admitting to things you had done. I eventually realized too late that you enjoyed the pain of consequence; that you looked forward to it, even. And none of this is to mention your incessant tendencies toward self-harm.”

_“Enough,_ the both of you,” Marcel cut in, slapping the table as her breathing began to labor. “You’re carrying on like a couple of children.”

“The only child in this house belongs to me,” she spat, eyes burning her mother. “You have no idea what you did when you took her. What Asriel will do if he ever finds out-“

“I gave her the greatest gift she could have been given,” her mother returned. “A life free of you and that man. Asriel would have left her to rot in that college. She has not been harmed and she’s had the opportunity of an education befitting of someone of her bloodline.”

“Forgive me, if I find that very difficult to believe,” she replied, eyes still hard as ice as she attempted to control her raging heart and slammed the picture on the table. “This is an attempt to control Asriel as much as me. You couldn’t just leave him alone to think his child was somewhere safe. You had to dig the knife in and twist it.”

With barely a glance spared at the picture, a knowing smile crossed her mother’s face as she relaxed into her chair and settled her gaze on her.

“Oh, Marisa,” she tutted, a slight shake of her head following. “You never learn, do you?”

Taken aback by her mother’s reaction, she chanced a glance at Marcel to find him equally confused.

“I gave that picture to the Master of Jordan, who gave it to Asriel.” Her mother smiled wickedly. “Who gave it to you.” Lifting her tea, she asked, “I imagine it was last night with your early arrival? Was bedding that man again worth your reputation, Marisa? He really must be something to waltz in after all this time and have you panting like a bitch for him.

_“Fuck you,”_ she growled, pushing herself up, breathing uneven and on the verge of raging. “That is _my_ child.”

“Eight years later and you still think birthing a child makes you a mother.” Diana shrugged and set her cup on the table before picking up the picture. “This is the only home she’s ever known. She’s not been harmed and she lives a perfectly healthy, normal life. To take her from it would be the cruelest thing you could do to her.”

“And at eight years old, I thought it normal for a mother to torture her daughter.” She stepped forward and leaned to her mother’s level, voice dangerously low. “And at fourteen, for a mother to ignore what her husband was doing to her daughter all so she could save a little face.”

Momentary emotion flickered over her mother’s features, but she recovered so quickly it could have been chalked up to the imagination.

“That girl has not been harmed nor will she ever be,” her mother assured softly, eyes suddenly avoiding hers. “She’s safe here, Marisa.”

Measuring her mother’s out of character withdrawal with some regard, she frowned as a deafening realization settled on her. “You care for her.”

This entire fight, she’d been so focused on her mother’s hatefulness to the point that it hadn’t occurred to her that she was deflecting. After all, her mother was the one who taught her how.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” her mother spat, eyes swinging back to her with renewed haughtiness. “The girl is a nuisance. I’ve simply dedicated myself to ensuring she doesn’t grow to be any more of an embarrassment than she’s already been.”

Before she could further dig into her inkling, Steven called from the archway, “Madame Delamare, Mr. and Mrs. Duff are here.”

Marcel exhaled a heavy sigh as he stood and lended his hand to their mother. As he helped her stand, the banker and his wife, two old friends of her mother’s walked through the door.

“Ah, Howard, Anne,” Diana greeted, smile courteous as ever. “I’m so glad you’re visiting.”

While the greetings went back and forth, she sucked in a deep breath and stood as well, smile settling into place, having learned long ago how to cover the violent storms that were always brewing between she and her mother.

“You remember, my daughter, Marisa.”

Mrs. Duff nodded. “Oh, yes, of course. It’s wonderful to see you, dear.”

“Your mother tells us you’ve become quite successful,” Mr. Duff added. “She’s always going on about you.”

“Well,” she replied with the fake sweetness she’d been taught. “It’s all credit to her.” Before they could say more, she continued, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll inform Steven to bring tea.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow, clearly displeased. Of course, Steven needed no instruction on what to do. The man had been serving her mother’s guests longer than she’d been alive.

Exiting the room, she made her way to the stairs and began the trek to her old room. As she reached the top of the stairs, she paused, her eyes venturing down the hallway to the last door on the right.

It had been some time since she’d last been here. The moment she’d married Edward, she’d sworn to never return to this house which had tormented her youth.

Her steps were lingering as she made her way down the hall, passing her brother’s room as well as the guest room; the closed doors haunting her memory.

Lip caught between her teeth, she stood before her door, stomping down the bile rising in her throat at the recollection of the horrors she’d endured on its other side, things that only came unbidden in the night when all her defenses were down to swallow her whole.

An unsteady sigh slipped from her nose as she reached forward and turned the knob, the click and creak of the door familiar.

It was no surprise that the room was little changed. Her mother was nothing if not consistent. The walls were still light blue and the bed and vanity exactly the same.

However, there was one difference. The room was more lived in than the prison she’d made out of it. Drawings and postcards littered the wall around the vanity, tugging at her curiosity. They were mostly crude, but some were very specific. Armored bears and other creatures were visible giving way to the active imagination Lyra clearly possessed.

The postcards mixed in were all from the Master at Jordan College, mostly containing book recommendations and pleading urges for her to behave.

  
So, she didn’t just look like Asriel, she thought with a smirk. Though, she supposed she couldn’t lay the blame solely at his feet for an adventurous, misbehaving child.

“I bet you can’t,” came Lyra’s voice from the window, which was opened out onto the roof where she’d last seen the girl.

“I could,” groaned another voice, displeasure clear in the lighter, boyish tone. “Watch.”

Her feet brought her closer where she found Lyra sitting, legs crossed with a book in her lap, while her daemon, still in the form of a white ermine shifted into a brown porcupine.

“Told you!” Lyra fell back in a fit, giggling as her daemon groaned with embarrassment.

“Is the sonnet that funny?”

Lyra shot up, eyes wide as she swiveled around to look at her as her daemon shot off the roof in the form of a gray sparrow. “Oh, hello.”

Leaning against the window seal, she nodded to the book and smiled knowingly. “Studying hard?”

Red creeped along the girl’s cheeks. “Well, I was reading it, you see, but then Pan thought he could turn into an armored bear and distracted me.”

Brow lifting at the way Lyra easily blamed the daemon, she laughed. “An armored bear? That would be a trick.”

Pan hissed as he alighted and changed back to his ermine form, scurrying around Lyra to look at her.

“That’s what I said!” Lyra giggled before fixing her with a curious look, brown eyes narrowing as they looked her over. “You said you met me when I was little?”

She could only imagine what she and her daemon looked like to the girl, who’d clearly not spent much time outside of this house. Glamorous came to mind as she considered the soft, blue dress wrapped around her body, hair curled just so, and the snake skin heels adorning her feet. The golden monkey has always been a sight of fascination to others and she doubted it would be much different to Lyra.

  
“Yes, you and Pantalaimon,” she answered, gaze flicking back to the ermine who was now distractedly looking past her into the room, likely for her own daemon.

  
“Ugh,” Lyra groaned, slapping a hand over her face and rather dramatically flailing her other arm. “He hates his full name.”

The ermine quickly spun around, clearly displeased with Lyra’s outburst. “I do not! You just get mad because you can’t say it right.”

She laughed as Lyra glared at Pan. “It is quite the difficult name. It’s for a saint, isn’t it?”

“I guess.” Lyra shrugged before shaking her head. “My mother’s daemon was clearly a few particles short of a brain.” Somewhere behind her, she heard her daemon growl. “He must have been a turkey or pigeon or something to choose a name like that.”

Amused at Lyra’s disgruntlement, she added, “What about you? Do you like your name?”

Chosen for the stars she and Asriel had once studied together; a past time long gone from her life and one he likely didn’t even remember.

“I like it cause it’s easy to spell.” Lyra rolled her eyes. “But Madame Delamare says my mother spoke the habit of lying over me with the name.”

“Hmm.” Propping her chin on her fist, she asked with a smile, “Lie often, do you?”

Eyes squinting, Lyra shook her head. “I think there’s a difference between lying and fibbing, but Madame Delamare says I’m trying to split hairs.”

“And what is the difference?” she wondered, truly curious as to the answer.

“Well, lying is when you’re trying to hurt someone or when you’re trying to get out of punishment,” Lyra explained very matter of factly. “And fibbing is when you’re just trying to make someone laugh at a ridiculous story. They’re harmless.”

She raised a brow, finding herself impressed with the girl’s differentiation in spite of herself. “I imagine you’re quite the fibber, then.”

“Excellent, really,” Lyra answered, glowing with pride. “Madame Delamare says I’ll make an excellent politician’s wife one day with my wild stories.”

With the opportunity presented, she tilted her head and leaned in as though inquiring about a secret. “And you don’t get punished for fibbing? Madame Delamare has very strict rules about that sort of thing.”

“Nah,” Lyra answered with a shrug, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “She just tells me if I’m going to do it, I’d better tell it so good that no one will ever doubt it’s the truth.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, genuinely surprised at that. It did sound like something her mother would say, albeit with her lizard latched around her daemon’s throat.

“Do you lie?” Lyra timidly asked, eyes intently watching her.

“Never,” she answered, completely straight faced long enough for Lyra to nod with clear disappointment. Then, she allowed a smile to touch her lips as she added, “But how would you know that’s not a lie?”

Lyra squinted at her before her tan face broke out in a brilliant grin. “I like you.”

The ability to swallow became difficult as her heart felt like it was clawing up her throat. Asriel shone in every facet of the girl’s face and the urge to reach out and touch her was becoming an unavoidable distraction.

“How come you never visit?” Lyra asked, tilting her head, her curiosity practically tangible. “I’ve lived her since I can remember and I’ve never seen you.”

The lie wouldn’t come.

“Well,” she began, threading her fingers together as she looked down. “My mother and I don’t always agree. Distance works best for us.”

“She really misses you,” Lyra commented, bringing her gaze up to those dark eyes. “She talks about you all the time.”

“Does she, now?”

“Mhm.” Lyra looked out over the garden, a distant look consuming her face. “I’d give anything to be with my mother.”

The words took a moment to sink in, but when they finally did she found herself unprepared for the onslaught of feelings and pushed away from the window, attempting to gather herself as she turned back to the room; emotions swirling like a storm in her chest.

“Are you ok?” Lyra asked, concern evident as the sound of her shoes hit the floor behind her.

“Yes,” she answered, back still to Lyra as she smoothed her hands down her dress before gesturing to the room. “This used to be my bedroom.”

Deflect. It’s what she was best at.

“I know,” Lyra confirmed, before gasping and running past her in a swirl of dark hair to the vanity where she began excitedly pointing at the desk. “You wrote this, didn’t you?”

Curiously venturing over to the desk, she saw what Lyra was pointing at; a carving of two names.

“Isa and Oz,” Lyra read before looking down at the golden daemon sitting at her feet. “Is that his name?”

Years had passed since she’d heard his name uttered aloud and she felt his startled response as he jumped up onto the vanity to stare at the names.

“Yes,” she answered simply, taking note of the way he inched closer to Lyra’s daemon, who was now on the desk as well, his white fur smooth.

“That’s cool,” Lyra said, tracing her fingers over the names as her eyes rose to the golden daemon. “He’s really beautiful. I’ve never seen _anything_ like him.”

“Mhm,” she murmured, eyes on Lyra as the girl stared at her daemon, taking in the curiosity and enchantment equally dominating her features.

  
  


Once again, she had to bite down the urge to reach out and touch her, fingers itching to caress the soft, dark locks she’d gifted to her child. She’d never believed in the natural maternal ache mother’s often went on about, but being here, alone with her daughter, she found herself once again reconsidering such an idea.

“I hope Pan settles as something cool.” Lyra giggled. “He wants to be a lion, but with my luck he’ll be a sloth or guinea pig.”

“Lyra,” Pan groaned as he scurried along the desk.

“Well, it’s getting late,” she said abruptly, snapping her fingers at the monkey, who flinched as his black claws stretched out as if to touch the ermine. “I should be going.”

As her sullen daemon jumped down, Lyra turned to her with a downcast expression. “You’re leaving?”

“I-“ She gestured to the door uneasily. “I have things I must take care of and London will be quite the drive back.”

“Oh,” Lyra murmured, scuffing her feet against the floor, her brow scrunched as the disappointment radiated off her in waves that slammed into her chest.

There was a pause where she was unsure what to say or do, a feeling she was not accustomed to at all.

“Will you visit again?” Lyra suddenly asked, head lifting and brown eyes hopeful. “No one interesting ever visits.”

“Oh, I’m not that interesting, Lyra,” she laughed, surprised at the leap her heart took at Lyra thinking such thoughts.

“Of course, you are,” Lyra argued with a bob of her head. “I think you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.” Lyra paused a beat. “Well, except for Roger.”

“Roger?” she asked, sure her mother would never allow Lyra to go off and play with a boy. “A friend of yours, I presume?”

Lyra paled as she became quite fidgety. “Oh, not really.”

Taking a seat at the vanity, she took one of Lyra’s hands and tilted her head to catch her eyes, a small smile touching her lips. “Is this one of those fibs you tell?”

Lyra shrugged. “I’m not supposed to play with the servants, but...” She sighed rather dramatically. “I just get so bored with all these books and lessons and dresses. I just want friends my own age.” With a roll of her eyes, she groaned, “All Madame Delamare ever has over are stuffy old people I have to entertain with my awful piano playing. Honestly, I’m surprised anyone visits anymore with that torture.”

Unable to help her laughter, she squeezed Lyra’s hand, delight filling her at the little fingers captured between her own. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Lyra appeared hopeful. “Really?”

“Of course,” she reassured her with a tap to her small nose. “Remember, I was Madame Delamare’s first victim of lessons and books.”

“Thank you!” Lyra exclaimed before throwing her arms around her neck.

“Oh,” she gasped, taken aback by the sudden gesture, her arms unconsciously catching the girl.

A feeling she didn’t want to put name to swelled in her chest as she held her daughter, one that had the capacity to drown her if not tempered. Then, it crumbled like ashes between her fingers when Lyra pulled back, a frown touching her brow.

“But you never said if you’d visit or not.”

“Lyra, I-“

She felt like she was in that room again, lying in a blood and sweat soaked state with Lyra in her arms as Asriel’s Gyptian nurse urged her to give her up before Edward came home and discovered her indiscretion.

“Will you?” Lyra asked again, brown eyes filled with pleading. “Please?”

For what she felt was the hundredth time since stepping foot in the room, she felt a genuine smile come to her face. “Of course, I’m beginning to think there’s little that could stop me from returning to see you.”

Lyra’s lightness returned. “Good.”

Clearing her throat, she stood and brushed Lyra’s hair behind her ear again. “I really do have to go now, though.” She, then, nodded towards the window. “And your sonnet is waiting for you.” Lyra groaned, head falling back. “Go on, then. I don’t want to get in trouble for distracting you from your lessons.”

Lyra laughed and turned to run to the window. When she reached it, she turned back to wave. “Bye, Mar-“ she paused and frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Madame Delamare says it’s impolite to call people by their first names without permission.”

With a grin, she began backing towards the door. “You are one of the few permitted, Lyra.”

A bright smile was the last thing she saw of her daughter as she and Pan hopped through the window.

Pulling the door closed behind her, she paused and released a heavy sigh, lifting a hand to her temple to relieve the ache there.

_ “What will you call her?” _

_ Tiny fingers reached out as she became enraptured with the baby girl in her arms. _

_ “Lyra,” she whispered, gaze flickering all over the small face of her daughter, noting every expression as the baby whimpered and squirmed in her arms. “Lyra Belacqua.” _

“Feisty thing, isn’t she?”

Startled from her thoughts, her gaze jerked around to find Marcel leaning against the wall with a sly grin.

“Have you been spying?” she asked hotly, already knowing the answer. “We’ve discussed this before. You know I don’t like it.”

“Oh, sister,” he t’skd, taking a step toward her and lifting a hand to brush her cheek. “You always have been such a controlling little monkey, haven’t you?”

“Don’t you _fucking_ dare,” she snapped, swatting his hand away and stepping around him.

However, before she got far, he grasped her arm and shoved her into the opposite wall, pressing solidly into her.

“Marcel-“

Fingers on her lips, he sighed, “Always so coarse. What would father say?”

A sick feeling twisted in her gut as his eyes fell to her mouth, fingers delving slightly in to probe her teeth.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers and breathing her in. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy,” she defended, measuring her words carefully, acutely aware that brute force was the only thing Marcel had ever held over her and he took a sadistic satisfaction in using it.

“With him?” By his tone, she knew exactly the him he was referring to, his jealousy clearly still lingering. “I know you saw him last night.”

“He was uninvited,” she reasoned, placing a hand again his chest, digging her nails in. “He taunted me with the girl, I ignored him, and he eventually left. He knows I want nothing to do with him.”

“But you want her?” His eyes opened as he leaned back slightly, a darkness swirling there. “His bastard.”

_“My daughter,”_ she bit back with equal contempt. “She’s my flesh and my blood.”

“And your sin,” he countered, brow lifted as his fingers trailed along her jaw and down her neck. “Isn’t that the agreement? Look at you, Marisa, mother’s favorite pet project, brought to her knees by the bastard of a heretic. I find it funny that after all this time, she still makes you lose control.”

Breath falling quicker, she held herself in check as her daemon growled, still at the door to Lyra’s room, his gaze flitting between the door and them as though listening for the girl while the owl watched from the top of the staircase railing.

“You and I, we used to be perfect together; the perfect team ready to take the world by storm.” His face darkened as his hips pressed deeper into her, effectively pinning her solidly to the wall. “And then you let that dirty brute crawl between your thighs and fuck a conscience straight into your belly.”

“You’re just jealous because as a woman I’m twice the man you’ll ever be.” She leaned into him, digging her nails into his arm. “Poor Marcel, mother’s quiet, little boy who just couldn’t get it up without me.”

“At least, I didn’t throw my future away for a fuck.”

“What future?” she chuckled, resting her head to the wall. “If it wasn’t for your constant desire to outperform me, you’d be nothing.”

“You have no idea what I’ve done,” he snarled, fingers snapping around her jaw. “What I’m doing while you continue to languish in your own filth.”

“Oh, fuck off, Marcel,” she bit, shoving him away and smoothing our her dress. “As if you have any right to speak of my sin with your own ever present.”

“Perhaps, sister,” he taunted, gesturing between them. “But I’m not the one with my sins on display.” He grinned and caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Mother’s little whore. Poor father never stood a chance, did he?”

“How dare you,” she snapped, shoving him again, revulsion filling her. “You know what he did to me.” Backing away from him, she growled, finger pointed at him, “Stay away from me, Marcel, or I swear to the Authority, they’ll never find all the pieces of what’s left of you.”

With that, she turned on her heel and descended the staircase, managing to keep control of her breathing until she reached the door where she snatched her coat and began pulling it on.

“I suppose the girl is staying since you’re not dragging her down the staircase.”

Gaze turning to her mother, she found her standing in the archway with an odd timidity about her.

“I’ll be back to make sure she read the sonnet.” After fixing her belt, she opened the door before pausing and turning with a tired glare. “And for the love of everything holy, mother, stop the piano lessons. You’re torturing her.”

With that, she opened the door and slammed it behind her; the reptilian knocker on the door practically hissing in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all the reviews so much!
> 
> And sorry if the lengthy flashbacks were too much. I literally can’t help myself.


	6. Fall Into The Madness With Me

“Hmm.”

The Tokay burned like fire down her throat as she rested her head on the sofa back, yet another migraine pulsing at her temple, beating like a drum in the dark.

The last few days had gone from high expectations to underwhelming results as her project had yet to find any improvement with regards to its status on top of the utter incompetence of her lead scientist.

_“Mrs. Coulter,” Dr. Fields urged, fidgeting with his glasses, the beads of sweat on his forehead glistening under the gaslight.“It’s only been a few days since our visit. I’m not sure what you expect-“ _

_ “What I expect, Doctor.” She took a firm step, directly into his space, gaze tantamount to a blazing forest. “Is your discretion.” _

_ “But I haven’t-“ _

_ “Are you denying that you spoke to a man in Trollsund over drinks some odd weeks ago? That you gave him details about what we were doing here?”_

_ The man at least had the decency to pale. “He was just another scientist,” Fields blabbered. “With common interest. He had valuable input.” _

_ “That man was Lord Asriel Belacqua,” she snapped, a desire to stab him in the neck with the pen on the desk rippling though her. “And I assure you that I have no desire for him to steal our research; to take everything I’ve worked for half a decade on and make his own because of an incompetent fool with a flapping mouth.” _

_ “Mrs-“ _

_ Jaw lifted, she reminded, “I warned you that I would tolerate no further disappointments.” _

_ “I-“ _

_ A sickening crack had the man falling to his knees, clutching his arm, his daemon caught in the grasp of hers, the shoulder of the creature jutting awkwardly against the floor._

_ “Go on,” she whispered, kneeling at his side and laying a hand to his cheek, a surge of pleasure coursing though her at the moist flesh. “Plead for your pathetic life.” _

_ “Please-“ _

_ His neck snapped to the side and he slumped to the floor, his daemon now nothing but dust glinting in the air. _

_ With a sigh, she brushed her hair over her shoulder before standing and turning to the man’s replacement; the fair haired woman recovering quickly with an awkward smile. _

_ “Now, let us see it in action.” She smiled tightly. “Perhaps, I can give you a lesson in how to produce results.” _

Incompetence.

It absolutely infuriated her.

She’d returned a few hours ago, completely sapped from dealing with the lack of ambition her subordinates held, but still determined to find some kind of turn in her day. 

_“I understand your concern,” MacPhail said while pacing, arms held behind his back. “And I appreciate your opinion on the matter, of course.”_

_ “Then, you’ll take care of it?” _

_ Yes, she’d agreed to assist Asriel, but it wouldn’t hurt to ensure along the way that he could no longer interfere in her personal life. What had happened between them the night of her party... what he had done to her, reduced her to... she needed him to stay away from her. _

_ “Mrs. Coulter,” he sighed, turning to her, black robes as pristinely pressed as they possibly could be. “The Magisterium is under pressure from the Cardinal to assess Asriel’s claims. He simply cannot be allowed to run rampant with his talk of multiple worlds.” _

_ “I agree completely,” she answered with a tight smile. “However, I would humbly suggest going about it in a more delicate manner. I know Asriel and, I assure you, no matter how disgraced he is, his word still carries substantial weight. The vile man uses his charismatic tongue to lure others into his schemes and sinful ideas.To attempt to overtake him by cutting off his donors will never work. It will only fuel him on while leading others closer to him and away from the light of the Magisterium.”_

_ She stood from her seat, smoothing out her dress, and closed the distance between them. _

_ “If you want Asriel, truly want him.“ She paused a few breaths from him, taking note of his sudden unease. “You’ll need to give him the room to hang himself.” _

The conversation with MacPhail had left her with more questions than not. While the man would no doubt take her advice, she’d gotten the distinct impression he was speaking of something foreign. 

Someone else was clearly pulling his strings.

Then, there were the recent events with her family which only added fuel to the fire that was the present throb in her skull.

Her daemon jumped to the sofa, but she ignored him, refusing to acknowledge his judgement of her wandering thoughts; the price of the direction they were heading in steep. Besides, she didn’t even have to see his dark gaze to know what he was thinking.

Armored bears, crude drawings, and lies versus fibs.

“She’s fine,” she whispered, eyes still closed as her fingers curled around the glass. “She’s safe.”

To her chagrin, now every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was dark hair hanging over the deepest brown eyes she’d ever seen... and it hurt. When she slept, it hurt. When she was awake, it hurt. When she was in conversation, a flash of dark hair would flit across her mind and she’d find herself falling into utter distraction.

_“I’d give anything to be with my mother.”_

Her daemon’s touch at her arm brought her eyes open, daggers flying from her eyes to his, leaving him to reel back before her hand connected with him. Breathing unsteady, she sipped the drink again and resumed resting her head, desperate to clear her mind of the sentimental thoughts.

_ “I gave her the greatest gift she could have been given... A life free of you and that man.” _

It confounded her, the revelation that her mother had changed so drastically in regard to Lyra. It left her unsure of what was real any longer. Never in her wildest dreams would the woman have ever taken the girl in, much less with a measure of kindness and care. What exactly had happened to cause such a shift in character?

During her youth, it wasn’t as though her mother had never attempted to be kind to her. While the majority of their time had been spent at odds, there had been moments of levity; of shared ground. But that didn’t negate the rest of it, nor did it ease her confusion at her mother’s shift from revulsion to endearment.

Was Lyra that compelling? A rambunctious, eight year old girl with a proclivity for half truths?

While she’d admit only to herself that she’d been struck with what she could only call some strange form of maternal pull upon speaking with the girl, her mother was under no such illusions. The girl wasn’t particularly enchanting or endearing. She was just a child, one with a penchant for fibbing and a tad too much energy; traits her own mother had always detested.

It absolutely baffled her.

Then, there was Marcel.

Her brother had always felt both close and distant throughout their lives. There was no one she knew better and yet... there had been something new in his eyes when he’d confronted her; something feral; something foreign.

He’d always been obsessed with bettering her; with finding some way to outshine her in their mother’s eyes. And it hadn’t been as though she cared about her mother’s praise so much as she’d wanted to outdo the woman herself.

Their entire family was apparently just one giant cluster of controlling, devious filth. At least she could blame it on the genetics.

However, while she’d gone through her quarrel with her mother and her conversation with Lyra, her mind kept drifting back to Marcel and the feeling that he was up to more than she knew.

_ “You have no idea what I’ve done,” _ he’d said. _ “What I’m doing.” _

What was he doing? What had he done that she didn’t know about? He’d always been so eager for his deeds to outshine hers. Why wouldn’t he be specific in his bragging, now? The man was nothing if not precise.

That’s why his position had been under such scrutiny when her affair had come to light. While he’d been a low man on the totem pole at the time, his job had been to monitor the various murmurs of heresy to come across his desk before sending it upstairs. The fact that his sister had been caught with a man of such heretical reputation...

But his jealousy of Asriel had ran deeper than just hating him for nearly ruining their reputations and being a heretic. Honestly, when it came to Marcel, she’d never been sure if his obsession with her was more one of hate or envy. At times, she’d been sure he wanted to _be_ her more than beat her. Marcel had always known he would never match her and his envy had bled over everything he touched.

_ “Well?” Arms crossed, she stared at her brother, unwavering. “Or are you too afraid?” _

_ “I’m not afraid.” Marcel spun toward her, green eyes flashing at her. “I can do anything you can.” _

_ “Well, then, do it,” she stated calmly, knowing full well he’d never manage it, and swirled a hand toward the door. “Go on.” _

_ Fists clenched, he peeked around the corner before stepping back and wiping his hands down his shirt. _

_ The sound of the kitchen door snapping shut alerted them to Steven exiting the room. Within the same heartbeat, Marcel was darting around the corner, climbing on the counter, and reaching for the long stemmed bottle on the top cabinet. _

_ Approaching footsteps echoed behind her, a familiar click of heels, the sound bringing forth a sharp panic to her bones._

_ “Marisa?” The tone was also familiar, full of suspicion. “Why are you loitering?” _

_ Just then, Marcel emerged proudly, the bottle of wine in his hands. However, upon catching sight of their mother, his eyes widened and his daemon, a grey mouse, squeaked before darting under his collar. _

_ The choice was made before she even considered her options. _

_ “Mother.” Her best sorrowful face conjured and dripping with remorse. “I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t hear it. I was just about to come and find you.” _

_ “Wha-“ Marcel began, before she turned to him, projecting her best guilt ridden performance. _

_ “I’ll take the punishment with you, Marcel,” she assured, reaching for his hand as Oz, a black fox circled her legs. “It’s only fair since I couldn’t stop you.” _

_ “Nonsense, Marisa,” her mother interrupted, taking her by the shoulder and steering her toward the stairs. “Run along.” _

_ When she was past her mother, she turned her gaze to her brother while walking backwards, mouth upturned when she caught his panicked look. _

_ Weak. _

The ding of the elevator caught her off guard. With a glance at the clock, the reading 11:17 pm, she leaned forward and waited, unsure if she’d imagined the sound or not. There was no buzz to alert her to a visitor and no one but she had a key.

Then, all saunter and arrogance, Asriel rounded the corner, hands in his pockets and a smirk on his lips.

“You seem surprised,” he teased, prompting a sigh from her as Stel trotted before him, maneuvering between the table and sofa likely in search of her daemon as Asriel dropped one of her lift keys on the table.

“You stole my spare key?” she asked, a mix of annoyance and unfortunately delight sweeping her, the latter furthering the former.

“Stole is such a harsh word.” He tossed his jacket over the arm of the opposite sofa and took a seat, arms spreading out over the back of the it. “Borrowed. There’s a distinct difference.”

_Like father like daughter_, she thought, resting her cheek against her fist, gaze sweeping his rather dapper appearance; black slacks and a shirt just the right shade of blue as to make his eyes shine like two, tiny seas.

When he wanted to, the man really could steal your breath like a thief slipping upon you in the dark of night. It was unfortunate that her own heart seemed to be slipping away from her at the mere sight of him and slinking across the space between them to settle in his arrogant hands.

“And where are you coming from looking so smug?”

His grin widened while he crossed his ankle over his other knee, clearly making himself right at home. “Oh, you’d be delighted with me. I rankled the feathers of quite the number of scholars.”

“Oh?” Lifting her glass for another generous sip, she quipped, “I imagine just the sight of you does that to most.”

“Clearly.” His sudden somber tone drew her eyes from the dark liquid to find his narrowed at her. “You’re simmering.”

“Very perceptive,” she murmured, flexing the muscles of her jaw.

Somewhere behind her, she heard Stel growl lowly and felt a flicker of pain brush her connection to her daemon.

“Work or pleasure?”

“All of it.” She closed her eyes and rested her head again. “Dr. Fields passed unexpectedly during my visit. It was quite unfortunate.”

There was an itch to dig her nails into something, body tense and primed for release. A lack of knowledge, of knowing the answers, always left a bitter taste in her mouth, one not even the glass in her hand could chase away.

“Well,” he dropped his leg and leaned forward, hands threaded as he propped his forearms against his knees. “Sounds like my favorite little monkey’s found herself in quite the twisted, little mess.”

Gaze blazing toward his, she found him smirking, teeth bared like an animal; prey in its sight.

“What do you want, now?” she spat, setting the glass down on the table between them and shoving the pillow at her side away. “Are you here to further steal from me?”

“Perhaps, I missed your hospitality,” he mused, sweeping up her glass and finishing it off. “Everything here always tastes so...” His gaze swept her, a lust filled glint offered up to her. “Delicious.”

Nails biting into her palms, she found her feet.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you’re enraged?” Only his eyes moved to track her, his smirk settling into a half grin. “I’m nearly fearful.”

“Stop talking,” she breathed, pulse throbbing in her chest, fire curling in her veins.

The steps it took to reach him were few, each one measured and controlled. This she could command.

Power. Domination. Authority.

“You know I don’t take well to orders, Marisa.” Even as he said the words, she could see the blatant desire burning in the seas of crystal. “It’d take someone maddeningly powerful to set me on my knees.”

Fingers reaching out and smoothing through his hair, her eyes lit, lips curving with malicious pleasure. Then, the next beat of her heart found him grimacing as her nails bit into his scalp as she jerked his hair until he was reclining into the sofa, allowing her the room she needed to straddle his thighs, one knee then the other sinking into the cushions.

“Mmm.” The pads of her fingers tickled over the scruff of his jaw, thumb tracing his mouth as she leaned in, gaze lingering on the slight jut of his tongue as it chased her digit until she was a breath away. “But you take mine so well.”

The way his hands slipped along her thighs and over her hips told a story of familiarity, one that spoke of shared history and intimacy. If they kept meeting like this, she was sure he’d only become more emboldened.

Fingers twisting at the back of his head, she tugged at his hair when he tried to kiss her, refusing him any choice other than to submit as she rolled her hips against his for added torture.

A glint of mischief swirled in his sea of blue right before she felt his touch burning along her flesh, a practiced ease clear in the way he’d began to slide her dress up her thighs.

Then, a swift and delicious relief to the ache she’d barely noticed was being tended to with deft, yet lazy fingers.

At this moment, there was really no use in denying the sleeping animal Asriel had awoken the week prior, but she had no desire for him to have that knowledge, to know that she dreamed of his hands on her every night, urgent need pressing at her core.

Not giving an inch of resolve, she hovered over his mouth, just out of reach, allowing the growing heaviness of her breaths to wash his cheeks.

When one digit slipped past the barrier of her underwear and into her panting depths, she sighed, eyes fluttering briefly before she steeled herself and focused on the hunger in his gaze rather than the pulse of his fingers as they stroked her with such skill that she wanted to strangle him for knowing her so well.

Like he’d read her thoughts and decided to test her resolve, the addition of a second digit brought her hips down without her consent as well as a gasp of need; the nails on his cheek pressing deep as she fought off the desperation to ride his fingers into oblivion.

There was no way she was completelysuccumbing to him, to allowing him the knowledge of how deeply she needed him.

Somewhere behind her, she heard a growl and then her daemon was receding, the familiar tug of his separation coursing witha blissful twist of torture in her gut. The cool breeze of the evening was practically tangible and she could almost see him scaling the vines on the balcony as he continued to put distance between them as well as Stel, leaving the leopard bereft of his touch.

Asriel’s eyes darkened, his pace slowing to the most painstakingly, bare rate to still be called movement. “You’re the absolute cruelest woman ever breathed into existence.”

Dropping a hand to grasp the back of his own, she ground down into his calloused palm, her nails biting into his skin as the wanton lust she bore for him had travelled so far down his hands that her own became drenched with it.

“Punish me,” she breathed, hips twisting over him, each swivel measured and intentional as her muscles tugged his fingers deeper within her, begging for the relief she’d never voice needing. “Fall into the madness with me.”

Clearly needing little encouragement, there was no defense against the onslaught of pressure he was suddenly commanding be built within the walls of her core, the scent of her arousal dizzying. Then, with a few swipes of his thumb, she was undone, brow pressed to his as she rode out the explosion he’d set off inside her; belly clenched and fingers in a vice around his dark locks as her bottom lip bore the brunt of the moan she refused to let escape.

When the tremors ceased, she forced her breathing to an even pace, enjoying the metallic taste on her tongue as his hand withdrew.

However, rather than moving to his belt, he left her altogether and held his hand out to the side. Brief confusion swarmed her before she was flooded with inexplicable lust at the sight of Stel licking his fingers clean, her golden eyes closed as her tongue swiped over his digits.

“Sharing is caring, Marisa,” he murmured into her hair as she found herself entranced by the predatory look of the leopard at their side. “If you’re going to hold back half of yourself from me, I’ll have to share the scraps.”

Never releasing her hold at the back of his neck, she reached out, fingers threading through his, gasping as Stel’s coarse tongue lapped at their hands, prompting goosebumps to raise along her flesh.

Through their connection, she felt her daemon whimper at the loss from his place on the balcony, his agony so profound, she nearly reached out for him, too.

Asriel’s fingers tightened on hers, drawing her gaze back to find him intently staring at her, eyes alight with desire and fury. “Bring him back.”

Feeling the balance of power teetering between them, she dug her nails into his palm and guided their hands to the fur at Stel’s neck, forcing them to clasp deeply into her pelt.

Asriel growled, his teeth baring, knowing she wouldn’t relent.

Without breaking their locked gaze, she dropped her other hand to his belt and began freeing him from his slacks, mouth curving devilishly as the scent of her arousal permeated the air.

At first, her touch was delicate, fingers lightly brushing the hard flesh in a downward descent, cupping his sack, and tracing a nail between the sofa and his ass cheeks to tease at his opening before returning along the same path she’d came, her eyes absorbing every minute shift in his expression. Then, like a switch flipping, she clenched her digits around his cock, delighting in the mirrored clench of his jaw and hand in Stel’s fur.

“Is this the sort of sharing you want?” Touch possessive, she whispered, “Kiss me.”

His free hand found her neck, the pads of his fingers drawing her close. 

However, the moment his lips touched hers, she turned her head and pressed her lips to the palm of his hand, reveling in the taste of him as she dragged her mouth down his arm until she met the material of his shirt before leaning forward to take the flesh of his neck between her teeth.

“Fucking tease,” he growled, chest pulsing, every breath pronounced against her cheek as she feasted on his flesh, nipping and tugging as she pleased, swallowing the taste of his skin.

Control. She had to control something today and it may as well be him.

“Marisa,” he murmured, hands leaving the leopard and coming to her hips, squeezing firmly. “Get on with it.”

Biting back a laugh, she slid her mouth along his cheek, the scruff scratching her skin as her fingers continued to work him at a nimble pace; thumb easing over his tip and swiping at his arousal before bringing it to her lips.

“Or what?” She smiled smugly, breathing over his mouth as she pumped her hand more firmly. “What will you do?”

His growl was punctuated by the swiftness of his mouth finding hers and, despite her attempt to refuse him, she found herself overwhelmed by him, practically consumed by his animalistic kiss.

Releasing Stel completely, she started on the buttons of his shirt with her one free hand, the need to feel more of him overriding the need to control him for the moment. He took the hint and shrugged out of his shirt quickly before resuming his quest to find his way inside her; his fingers bruisingly digging into her hip and ass as he pulled her into position.

When she finally relented, thighs hugging his as she guided the head of his cock through her messy lips, she groaned into his mouth, hands creeping up his back and locking in the back of his hair as he wormed his way deeper.

“Marisa,” he growled into her cheek, at last seated wholly and firmly to the hilt.

At his lapse, she jerked his head back, hovering over his mouth as she took back the control, enjoying every minute shift in his expression even as she tried to control her own.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, hand gliding up to cup her breast over her dress and squeeze. “I want to die inside you... Just like this.”

Gripping the back of the sofa, she felt a manic laugh escape her at his words as she clenched her inner muscles around the stiff, hot flesh within her.

“You’ll die as I say,” she teased, breathing in the sharp sigh he released. “I already know exactly how I’ll do it.”

His smirk wasn’t missed as he lifted a hand to her back and began unzipping her dress, fingertips grazing the flesh left exposed. When he was done, she let him pull it from her, his eyes trailing over her in a way that set her ablaze, reverence and possessiveness equally dominating the crystal blue.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, a single finger circling her stiff nipples. “How do you still do this to me?”

Not wishing to have feelings creep into their bubble, she drew his mouth to hers, silencing the room to nothing more than heavy breathing and the filthy noises of their bodies colliding over and over.

She threw herself completely into him; biting, scratching, bruising, as he took to worshiping everything on which he could get his mouth.

Elbows in his shoulders, she wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers clutching his hair at the roots, leveraging her body as her thighs and calves ached with the effort of riding him.

”Harder,” she grunted, forcing him to take in more of the breast he was mouthing, lips suckling and tongue flicking around the globe and nipples.

By the time she was clutching at him, control completely shattered, he was breathing against her skin, panting like a wild animal.

“Marisa,” he groaned, hands everywhere as he came inside her, his seed spilling hotly.

For a moment, no one controlled anything, both too spent for rational thought, too wrapped up in the other to care about denying the tangible intimacy, the absolute baring of hearts between their gazes.

Stel was at their side, purring emphatically as the monkey, who’d managed to sneak in when her guard was down, nuzzled into the silky fur at her neck, his golden arms wrapped around her silver form, the contrasts of their shades too stark and beautiful to gaze at too long.

“Asriel,” she murmured in his ear, arms wrapped around his shoulders, teeth nipping at him. “Don’t forget to  _borrow_ the key again before you leave.”

His laughter washed over them both as his hands smoothed up her back and into her hair.

“Yes, my monkey.”

* * *

The sun was barely creeping in through the window when she heard him groan behind her, the rustle of sheets accompanying his waking.

“Get back in this bed,” he growled as she cinched the belt of her jacket. “I’m not done with you.”

Ignoring him, she swept her hair over her shoulder and checked her appearance one last time. “I have a meeting.”

“It’s barely light out.”

Satisfied, she turned to him, gaze dancing over the absolutely maddening allure of the naked man twisted in her sheets. Honestly, it had been difficult to pull herself from his arms, but that had been precisely why she had done it. For the first time in years, she’d awoken encased in his embrace and completely at ease, spending a good fifteen minutes just staring at his peacefully, sleeping face.

“You’re not supposed to still be here,” she reminded him while closing some space between them to pick up her keys from her bedside table. “That’s the rule.”

His grin was ridiculous as he folded his arms behind his head and eyed her mischievously, the sheets barely covering his middle.

“And when have you ever known me to follow the rules?” He grinned all the more. “I believe I taught you that rules were meant to be broken.”

“Hmm.” Eyes lingering on the prominent cuts down his abdomen, she felt her mouth tugging upward in pleasure at knowing she’d been the one to put them there. “So you did.”

“Spend the day in bed with me,” he suggested, hand reaching out and grasping her arm. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

She obliged him by sitting on the edge of the bed, but refused to succumb to his urge for her to join him. Instead, she touched one of the cuts left by her nails and ran her finger down the angry, red mark.

“I’d think you’d have had enough by now,” she teased, digging a nail into the cut while enjoying the flinch he submitted for her pleasure. “It seemed like you were attempting to make up for your neglect over the last six years.”

“Oh, I was,” he admitted, easing his hand up her dress and along her inner thigh. “And I’m not done.” 

It should have infuriated her at how needy she already was for his greedy fingers as they stroked and thumbed at her core, especially considering they’d spent the better part of the night bringing each other off after they’d stumbled to her bed.

“The meeting is with Boreal about MacPhail,” she offered distractedly, even as her eyes fluttered. “I’d hate for rumors to start circulating about us.”

His chuckle drew her own smile as he laid his other hand over hers and drew it to his lips.

“You really should just marry me,” he murmured against her skin, his words a gentle contrast to the quick pulse of his fingers. “It’d be so much easier to fuck you every night.” He punctuated his words by thrusting a finger within her. “And every morning.” Another finger. “Anytime I wanted, really.”

“The Magisterium would never allow it,” she whispered, gaze leaving his in favor of their daemons who were curled together on the floor. “You know that.”

Her own daemon was put out with her, she could feel it; still unforgiving for being sent away the night before.

He should be grateful. If he’d stayed, Asriel would have had the both of them on their knees, begging. Just like he was attempting to do, now.

  
“Fuck the Magisterium,” he growled, sitting up and drawing her face to his as his fingers continued to push her toward that abyss. “We could go North and marry. They have little to no reach there.”

“Asriel,” she sighed heavily, eyes falling closed as the fire in her belly became unbearable and she unraveled around him, fingers biting into the back of his neck as they tangled in his hair.

“Marry me,” he whispered urgently, easing his fingers out and over her core, lazily swiping through the mess he’d made.

The man was unrelenting. Give him an inch and he’d take the whole mile and then some. It infuriated her. “Why do you have to push for more every time I give you an ounce of myself?”

“Because I’m tired of ounces, Marisa.” His free hand cupped her cheek. “We belong together. Do you have any idea the things we could accomplish if we were united? We could rip the universe apart and put it back together.”

“Well, that’s rather the point, isn’t it?” Eyes on his, she absorbed the waves of danger crashing into her. “You want to destroy what I want to control. We’d never last.”

“Oh, I disagree,” he breathed against her cheek. “Pretend all you want, but you have no love for the Magisterium. You hate it as much as I do.”

  
He was drunk on her; he knew it as well as she, and he was trying to drag her into the same state he was in. Fantasies and dreams that they both knew could never be.

“They destroyed us,” he insisted, removing his hand from her jacket and taking her face in both hands, the scent of her sex permeating the air between them. “We could have lived an entire life together by now and half hazardly raised our daughter.”

Mention of Lyra brought forward the reminder that Asriel was still in the dark regarding her whereabouts as well as the fact that she had no intention of showing him to the light. However, that didn’t stop the ache she felt at his words.

”She’s beautiful,” she murmured, eyes falling as she brushed the back of her knuckles against his chest.

“You’re not angry with me?” he asked, lifting her face with a finger under her chin. “I was a little worried you’d track me down and shove the picture down my throat.”

Unable to help her chuckle, she sighed, “I’m always angry with you.” Then, with a tap to his nose, she added, “But it wasn’t the worst thing to find.”

His grin returned as he caught her hand and kissed the pads of her fingers, trailing up the digits until he reached her wedding ring.

”Why do you still wear this?” he groaned.   
  


  
“Because the name still carries weight.”

”My name carries a title,” he quipped, forcing her to curl her finger lest he jerk the ring right off. “Plus, I just really want to never hear the name, Coulter, again.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulled from his hands and asked, “So, it’s not even about me, then?”

“Well.” He lulled his head with a grin returning. “Spending your money wouldn’t hurt, either.”

Shaking her own head, she took his jaw between her fingers and kissed him, lingering for a moment longer than she should have before releasing him.

“I have to go,” she said, standing and straightening her jacket before he could draw her further into his web.

“And Asriel,” she added, turning in the doorway with a smile as her daemon passed her with an annoyed grunt while Stel leapt to the bed. “I expect that key to be returned again soon.”

The last she saw of him, he was reclined in her bed like he belonged there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the thoughts. Some of them actually give me ideas. The next chapter will be another big veer away from the cannon’s storyline.


	7. A New Chapter

Heels clicking against the smooth floor, she paced from one side of the hallway to the other and then back again, basically spinning in circles as she checked her watch for the upteenth time and let out a growl of frustration.

“Why is he back early?” she murmured, a glance at her daemon finding him staring down the hallway toward her spare room.

At her question, his dark eyes turned to hers and his mouth moved to open.

_“Don’t,”_ she warned, knowing he was pushing her limits as he’d been doing all day.

Gnawing at her lips, she checked her watch again, agitation only furthering at the fact that it was nearly midnight.

Asriel has been gone for a month and hadn’t been supposed to return for a few more days. While his absence has been more unbearable than she’d ever admit aloud, she wasn’t prepared to see him tonight at all.

_ “For how long?” _

_ He tossed what seemed to her a haughty smirk over his shoulder as he buttoned his shirt, fingers nimbly climbing the material. _

_ “I thought you’d be glad to be rid of me. You’re always complaining that I’ve overstayed my welcome.” _

_ Screwing up her face in a show of displeasure, she rolled her eyes and snapped, “I want to know how long of a break I’ll get from your mooching off me.” _

_ He grinned all the more before he sighed, “Well, I have to if you’re going to ruin every shirt I own.” He gestured to the dangling strings on the flap of his shirt where the buttons were once sewn. “I’m broke, remember?” _

_ “You’ve never minded before,” she quipped, propping her head in her hand as she reached out to finger the hem. “You certainly seemed to enjoy me taking it off you last night.” _

_ “I truly did. However, if you were my wife, I’d have spares in the closet.” _

_ Unable to help the unrestrained laugh that escaped her, she met his half serious expression. “You’re never going to give up, are you?” _

_ His grin returned as he pressed a hand into the bed on either side of her and leaned down to within a breath of her. “You’ll give in eventually.” _

_ “Oh, will I?” she teased, tickling her fingers along his chest. “And what makes you think I even like you enough to marry you?” _

_ With a smug chuckle, his lips took hers captive and he pressed her back into the bed, practically crawling on top of her. _

_ Hands creeping over his ribs and around his back, she pulled him closer, absorbing the feel of him a little longer before he was gone; his taste, his touch... she wanted it all to stick to her skin like a brand, burn her with his essence. _

_ After a few dozen heartbeats or so, she felt him growl as he pushed up and off her with a smack of his lips. _

_ “Distracting monkey,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair as he snatched up a boot and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. _

_ “You could always catch the next airship.” _

_ A huff was all she received as he bent to fiddle with his boots. “A month is already cutting it short. I can’t lose any more time.” _

_ A  _ month _ . Schooling her face to appear unfazed, she stared at his back and willed her heart not to burst on the spot as she responded, “Why not stay in the North longer? I’m sure you could extend your trip. It’s not as though you have family to attend to.” _

_ It was barbed and cruel, she knew, but she couldn’t stand the awful ache settling in her chest and wanted him to feel it, too. _

_ “Perhaps, I will.” He turned to her with searching eyes, like he was probing her guts for clues. “It’s not as though you’ll miss me, right?” _

_ At least a dozen heartbeats passed... and then another dozen. _

_ “Right,” she whispered, fingering the cuff of his sleeve. “Not a bit.” _

_ A brief silence was followed by a soft, “I’ll miss you.” _

_ “Hmm.” _

_ Then, the bed was springing back into place as his weight was lifted and he was tugging the blankets up and over her where he proceeded to tuck her in. _

_ “While you’re busy not missing me,” he began, leaning down close to her. “I’ll be doing my best to not fall of the side of a mountain while distracted with thoughts of you.” _

_ The smell of him was invading her ability to cut at him, leaving her to reach up and pull him down for a final kiss. _

_ “You do that.” _

The ding of the elevator brought her heart right up her throat as she watched the hand signal its rise as it moved from left to right, practically taunting her as it moved at its own pace no matter how she willed it to slow.

_We’re ready_, she could almost swear she heard her daemon say.

Smoothing a hand down her dress, she took a deep, steadying breath and, when the doors finally slid opened, she could have been described as perfectly composed by anyone other than him.

With a slight raise of his brow, he gingerly lingered in the opening, eyes dancing from her to the rest of the building as though searching for something.

“Did someone die?” he questioned, hands folding behind his back as he tilted forward. “You seem extra tense.”

“You’re back three days early,” she bit, arms crossed as her gaze flickered to Stel, who’d already set sight on her daemon, who knew better than to vault forward the way he desperately wanted to. “And it’s midnight.”

“So I am and so it is,” he returned evenly, glancing to his watch before returning to his stance as his face dissolved into one of pure amusement. “Though, technically it’s ten minutes until midnight.”

“Don’t be smug. You know some people do go to bed at a reasonable hour.”

“Marisa.” He chuckled and finally stepped through the doors, allowing them to slide shut behind him. If only he knew the finality of their closing. “Why are you being so serious?”

“Have you ever known me to having a joking personality?”

He paused just in front of her, eyes flickering from her hard gaze to her still crossed arms, then back again.

“Occasionally.” He grinned, a new glint in his eye as he lingered on her lips. “Though, you’re usually naked at the time.”

Something tantamount to a fit was on the verge of escaping her when he finally took her in his arms.

“Why are you so wound up, love?” He maintained distance enough to look her over even as he pulled her flush to him. “I’d have thought you’d be happy to see me after a month of nothing.”

The fact that he had the audacity to think that spoke volumes to how much she’d let slip to him during their previous evenings together; evenings that had become so routine and so need fueled that it was a wonder they’d made it this far without the sort of accident waiting to spew from her lips.

“Things have happened and I had to deal with them while you were off gallivanting with your heretical musings. I should have you thrown in prison.”

Eyes narrowing, he lulled his head side to side. “Not how I expected this evening to go. Though, if you’re in the mood to punish me, you’re more than welcome to tie me up if you like, love.”

“Asriel,” she whispered through the hard knot bunched in her throat. “I didn’t have enough time to take care of everything. I wanted to be ready.”

The tensing of his arms around her was all she needed to signal she had his full attention.

“What do you mean? Time for what?”

“First thing’s first.” Heart hammering, she stepped aside and nodded down the hallway. “The spare room. _Quietly_.”

While he regarded her oddly, he bypassed her and moved down the hallway with her trailing at a generous space. The many scenarios had run through her mind of course, but she wasn’t quite sure how he would react and didn’t want to be in grabbing distance if it went sour.

When he pushed the door open and peered into the room, she held her breath as he looked back at her curiously. Stel was the first to enter the room and, when they were both inside, she leaned against the wall and waited, dreading his return.

There would be no way around his anger, she knew that. By the time she’d have it all out in the open, he would be furious and likely volatile. The idea of it had her nerves frayed at the edges, but she knew by the end of it, he’d come around to her side of things. This was what he’d always wanted.

It took longer for him to reappear than she’d calculated, but, when he did, his eyes were harder than when he’d went in. Two short breaths were all it took for him to be in front of her, fingers biting into her arms.

“What is this, Marisa?” he growled, the crystal of his eyes scathing. “What have you done?”

Steeling herself against his overbearing presence, she met his fire with ice. “What I had to.”

_“Stop here.”_

_As the car rolled to a stop, she wasted no time waiting on the driver and instead pushed the door open herself, the warmth from the evening sun welcome as her eyes danced along the riverbank._

_Squeals of laughter could be heard from the group of children jumping from boat to bank then back again. Six, maybe seven, boys and one dark haired girl in a red dress were chasing each other, sticks waving through the air as_ _they shouted what seemed to be curses at each other._

_ She took a few steps forward and watched with amusement, arms crossed, as her daughter, clearly the ring leader, shoved two of the boys overboard into the river as the rest of the boys cheered her on. _

_“That’ll show you,” Lyra shouted, fist waving at the wading boys and their daemons. “Now, tell me, Tony Costa, who’s in charge?”_

_One of the lankier of the boys peered up at Lyra angrily as he slapped at the water and mumbled something. She could only imagine it lacked flattery for the girl._

_“Sorry, ditch water,” Lyra taunted__, arms crossing with blatant arrogance. “I can’t hear you.”_

_ “You are!” another of the boys shouted before swimming toward the bank in a huff, soaked head to toe. _

_ Lyra turned to her followers in triumph as she high-fived them, each boy giving her a dramatic bow as she passed, which she clearly thrived off of, a smug grin plastered over her face. _

_ The expression was so reminiscent of Asriel that she nearly tilted forward with the desire to further inspect each crease and plane for more similarities. _

_It was at that moment that their gazes locked and Lyra’s smirk transformed into a brilliant smile._

_“Marisa!”_

_Oz gave the jolt forward that she’d suppressed, his longing palpable._

_Without another glance at the boys, Lyra vaulted herself over the boat’s side onto the bank with the ease of a girl who’d done it more than once, her dark hair bouncing as she jogged up the hill to where she stood waiting; Pan circling overhead._

_“You came back!”_

_“As I said I would,” she laughed, uncrossing her arms just in time to catch Lyra as she plowed into her front, arms squeezing around her waist._

_“It’s been months,” Lyra insisted into the folds of her coat before she pulled back and peered up at her with an accusing frown. “I thought you’d lied.”_

_The girl was absolutely filthy, brow covered in sweat and leaves strewn all through her hair, but that did nothing to halt the swell of pride in her heart at knowing she was her filthy daughter; her own little mischievous monkey as Asriel would call her. She was full to the brim with the maternal feelings she’d been suppressing for as long as the girl had lived._

_“I’m sorry, Lyra,” she apologized with a small smile, smoothing dark hair away from equally dark eyes. “I assure you I hadn’t meant to wait so long. I’m afraid my work caught up with me and I was delayed from returning.”_

_   
_ _  
As she explained, her fingers ran over Lyra’s brow, a small cut along her forehead catching her eye. “What happened here?”_

_Lyra frowned and reached up to touch the place. “Oh, that!” She rolled her eyes and tossed a hand toward the river. “Those Costa boys caught us off guard during a battle and Tony nailed me in the head with a stone.”_

_Heat swelled in her chest as she knelt to Lyra’s level to further inspect the wound. “He deliberately hurt you?”_

_“Yeah, there was so much blood.” Lyra grinned like she’d won a prize. “I thought Madame Delamare was going to have a stroke when she saw it. It was so funny.”_

_“Did she address it with his mother?” There was some sort of irrational need coursing through her to see justice done for her daughter which was overtaking everything else. “Was he reprimanded?”_

_“Well, I didn’t rat him out,” Lyra replied, glancing back at the boys with a shrug. “I just told her I tripped and hit my head on the steps.”_

_“You lied?” She asked, glancing at her daemon who was worrying over Pan in his ermine form; black claws ruffling through his white fur._

_“Of course, if I’d told the truth she’d have never let me out of the house again.” Lyra seemed terrified at the thought. “That would have been truly painful.”_

_Calmed enough to take in Lyra’s amusement, she shook her head and smoothed her hands down Lyra’s bony arms. “That’s not very lady like.”_

_Lyra’s nose scrunched. “None of the ladies I’ve ever met would know fun if it smacked them in the face. I’d much rather take a thrashing for a lie than have to do any of that fancy stuff.”_

_“Right.” Considering Lyra with a thoughtful gaze, she added, “It’s becoming clear that you’re quite the handful, aren’t you?”_

_A flash of pride beamed in her daughter’s brown eyes before she asked, “_ _Are you staying for dinner?”_

_Smile finally returning to her face, she rose to her feet and held out her hand for Lyra’s much smaller, much grimier, one. “Yes, I have much to discuss with my mother.”_

_As they began walking, Lyra pressed, “Bout what?”_

_“Well,” she glanced at Lyra with a teasing smile. “About you.”_

_“Me? Why me?” Abruptly stopping, Lyra turned to her with a worried expression. “You won’t tell her about Tony Costa, right? I’m the one who started the war that day. He was just defending his territory.”_

_“Of course not,” she assured, squeezing Lyra’s hand. “I told you before, your secrets are safe with me.”_

_“Phew.” Lyra resumed walking beside her, clearly relieved her lie wouldn’t be discovered. “Ma Costa would whip Tony something fierce if she found out. One time-”_

_“Ma Costa?” The name tugged at her._

_“Yeah, she’s Tony’s mum.” Lyra looked up at her, a bit of her brightness dimming. “She nursed me when I was a baby, too. After my mother gave me away.”_

_A strangled noise escaped her daemon as she dropped Lyra’s hand like it’d scalded her; the woman’s face from eight years prior fresh in her mind.  
  
_

_“What?”_

_Lyra turned to her with a frown as Pan scurried up and along her shoulder. “Oh yeah, that was before Madame Delamare adopted me. Apparently, my mother didn’t want me and had me placed in a nunnery, but then my father rescued me and gave me to the Master of Jordan to take care of.”_

_“Did she tell you that?” she asked a little too quick and sharp, drawing a squeak from the younger daemon. “That your mother didn’t want you?”_

_“No, Tony did.” Lyra stuffed her hands in the pockets of her dress and looked toward the river. “A few weeks ago, he overheard Ma Costa and Father Coram talking about it. He said it’s supposed to be some big secret or something. About my mother being some really rich lady from London who’d rather have a lot of money and stuff than have anything to do with me.” Lyra shrugged and kicked at the rocks before mumbling, “Another reason not to be a lady.”_

_Suddenly overcome with the need to defend herself, she squatted at Lyra’s side and pulled her close by the arm, making sure she had her eyes before asking, “Do you think that about me, Lyra?”_

_Lyra’s brows drew tight. “What do you mean?”_

_“Do you-“ She hesitated, unsure if revealing her purpose for visiting right now was the best time. “Do you think I’d be that sort of mother?”_

_“Of course not!” Lyra hurriedly answered, brown eyes wide. “I think you’d be the best mother ever.”_

_“Why do you think that?”_

_Genuine concern rippled though her. Lyra would never know how important her answer was._

_“Well,” Lyra lulled her head side to side. “You listen to me instead of treating me like I’m some stupid kid and... you seem like you’d be fun; like you’d care.” She looked to her feet and kicked at the rocks again. “No one’s ever really cared about me before.” A small shrug. “I mean, Madame Delamare does... I think, but not like Ma Costa cares about Tony and Billy.”_

_Confidence reinforced, she gave a nervous laugh and summoned her nerve, taking Lyra’s hands between her own, eyes tracing the dirty fingernails and little nicks on the backs of her daughters hands. “Can I tell you a secret?”_

_Lyra stepped closer and she found herself teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice; one she knew would either allow her to soar or plummet should she step off it._

_“I’m going to have a baby.” She brought her hand to her belly and smiled at Lyra, who's eyes had popped open wide. “I haven’t told anyone... except you.”_

_“Wow.” Lyra stared at the place her hand was as Pan peered from her shoulder, his dark eyes curious as well. “But... you’re not married.”_

_“Right.” Leave it to an eight year old to focus on that. “I will be very soon.”_

_“Oh.”_

_May as well step off the edge._

_“Lyra, I want you to come live with me in London.”_

_Lyra’s eyes went wide again, this time enough to put her eyebrows right in her hairline. “In London? With you?”_

_“Yes,” she assured with another nervous laugh, reaching up to brush Lyra’s hair over her ear. “I think it would be really great for both of us and... you could help with the baby when it comes.”_

_Lyra chewed her lips and she could practically see the thoughts spinning in the girl’s head. Oh, how she looked like Asriel as she mulled over the offer._

_“I don’t think Madame Delamare would let me.”_

_A violent sensation stirred in her belly. “It’s not her decision, Lyra.”_

_“But she’s my guardian,” Lyra went on with a gesture toward the manor. “She’s in charge of me-”_

_“No, I’m in charge, Lyra, I’m your-“ She paused and found herself chewing her lips similar to how Lyra had just been. “Lyra, your mother does want you. She’s...” Both hands lifted to Lyra’s cheeks, thumbs brushing her skin as she focused the girls big, brown eyes on her blue ones. “I’ve always wanted you.”_

_With bated breath, she waited, watching as Lyra frowned at her, turning her head sideways, eyes dancing over every part of her face as she tried to work out what she’d just heard._

_“You- but...” Lyra’s chest began to pump quicker, her daemon backing up to chitter in her ear. “You’re-“_

_“Yes, darling,” she whispered, stroking her daughter’s cheek. “I’m your mother.”_

_The words slipped from her lips with a surety she hadn’t expected. Since the moment she’d learned of her pending pregnancy mere days before, she’d thought of nothing else but securing Lyra to her side. It was as though she’d been taken over by some foreign entity which fed on her quietest feelings for the girl. She’d planned everything; the room, the school, the clothes. There was very little she wouldn’t do to insure Lyra’s place with her._

_However, instead of leaning into the knowledge with joy as she’d predicted, Lyra stumbled away from her touch._

_“No.”_

_Hand bracing against the ground, she stretched her arm out toward her daughter. “Lyra-“_

_“Your lying,” she shouted, tears springing to her eyes as she continued to back away. “You’re a liar.”_

_Taken aback, she observed Pan jump from Lyra’s shoulder, transforming from ermine to leopard before he hit the ground; teeth bared at her daemon who tried to approach him._

_“Lyra.”_

_   
Whirling on Oz, she’d have killed him for his utterance of her daughter’s name if it hadn’t been dangerous to her own well being._

  
_Rising to her feet, she moved toward her daughter, who only moved further away before eventually turning on her heel and sprinting toward the manor._

_She watched her go even as her daemon pulled at the grass, his cries echoing the feeling in her chest._

* * *

_By the time she was shutting the front door behind her, her mother was standing, arms crossed, in the foyer, her brow set in a deep frown._

_“What have you done, Marisa?”_

_Paying the woman no mind, she shrugged her coat and draped it over a table, her stride never pausing. “Where is she? Upstairs?”_

_“She came in and ran right up, weeping as she went.” Her mother fixed her with a pointed look. “Lyra does not weep.”_

_Nails biting into her palms, impatience won out as she brushed past the woman._

_“What are you doing here?”_

_“I’m here to take my daughter home.”_

_“Oh, Marisa, you didn’t.” As she passed, her mother went on, “This is her home. This has always been her home.”_

_She spun on the bottom step, a dangerous blaze in her belly. “That was not my choice! I did not choose you, of all people, to raise my child!” Her voice broke off as she pointed at the woman who’d plagued her entire childhood. “My child!”_

_Her mother came up short of following her, hands falling to her sides._

_“She is my daughter and I am taking her home with me.” Straightening to her full height, she pushed out a steadying breath and began up the stairs again. “She belongs with me.”_

_“Marisa!”_

_Ignoring her mother, she allowed her feet to carry her to her old room with more sureness than her previous visit, the adrenaline pumping through her veins urging her on until she was close enough to hear things breaking inside._

_When she paused in the open doorway, she found her daughter throwing everything she could get her hands on._

_“Lyra.”_

_At the sound of her name, Lyra spun, a vase with white lillies clasped in her hand, chest heaving, and eyes blazing like the African sun. “I’m not going with you. I hate you.”_

_The anger was unexpected, but not misunderstood._

_“Ok.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame, fixing her face to reflect nothing but passiveness. “Alright.”_

_“You’re a liar.”_

_   
The accusation stung, but she bore it nonetheless. It wasn’t as though there was no truth in it._

  
_“Yes.”_

_Lyra paused, clearly unnerved by her lack of rebuttal, a perplexed expression flickering across her features before she chunked the vase to the floor, glass shattering all around her feet as Lyra jabbed, “And you’re not my mother.”_

_Barely sparing the deceased vase a glance, she laughed, “I’m sorry, but the many hours of labor I spent bringing you into this world says I am.”_

_Body still coiled, Lyra wiped at her nose, hateful glare ever present. It was so reminiscent of her own self that she nearly smiled with pride._

_Knowing this would go no where without a clarification, she pushed from the door and hesitantly ventured further into the room, making sure to give her seething daughter a wide berth._

_“I know you’re confused.” She paused at the vanity where she ran her fingers over her and her daemon’s names, barely surprised that Lyra and Pan now had their names there, too. “When you were born, I had some very hard choices to make and I chose to give you up because I wasn’t prepared to be your mother, then.” She glanced over at Lyra, who was watching her intently. “I wasn’t equipped for motherhood.” She laughed lightly. “I’d never even considered it.”_

_“Then, why bother?” Lyra spat, arms crossing defiantly, leaving her once again struck by her daughter’s similarity to herself._

_“I didn’t plan for you.” She leaned against the vanity and mimicked her daughter by crossing her own arms, deciding the truth would be better in this case. “My husband wasn’t your father.”_

_Lyra’s brow creased as the words seemed to go over her head._

_“I... was involved with someone else.” The word loved had nearly slipped out and she cursed herself inwardly. “It was a forbidden thing.”_

_“So, you’re a liar and a sinner.”_

_Flexing her jaw, she smirked through tight lips, imagining that the next ten years were going to be full of more of the same. “It would seem so.”_

_“Like right now. You’re having a baby and you’re not married.”_

_Not to be thrown under the bus by an eight year old, she turned her head to measure the girl. “You’re one to lecture about lying.”_

_Lyra’s frown deepened, back straightening. “I lied to protect Tony.”_

_“And I lied to protect you.” She pushed herself up. “No one would have allowed me to keep you, Lyra, least of all your father.”_

_“My father?” Lyra glanced to the window as though the answers would be revealed there._

_“Asriel Belacqua.”_

_Lyra murmured the name, her expression finally loosening a little as she sat on the bench at the end of her bed._

_“Lyra.” She tentatively took a few steps toward her daughter. “I’m sorry.” When the girl didn’t react with violence, she took it as a good sign and knelt in front of her, tucking her knees beneath her and sighing. “I know this is all sudden and it’s a great deal to wrap your mind around.”_

_Lyra shrugged and stared down at her dirty hands, which she reached out and took in her own, relief washing through her when Lyra didn’t pull away._

_“But I have never wanted anything more than I want for you to come live with me.”_

_“You want me?”_

_The hesitancy crushed her under its weight, prompting her to ease even closer, lifting a hand to Lyra’s chin, forcing the girl’s despondent gaze to hers._

_“With everything I have.”_

_A small smile finally came to Lyra, encouraging her to go on. _

_“Besides that, you’re going to be a big sister,” she added, a grin coming to her lips. “And I think you’ll be just wonderful at it.”_

_A sort of hopeful expression appeared. “Really?”_

_“Oh, absolutely,” she assured, bringing one hand to her belly. “Who else will teach this little one how to start wars?”_

_Finally, a full laugh escaped Lyra as she nodded. “How to win wars.”_

“So, you stole her away from a perfectly respectable home so you could what, Marisa? Use her for some sort of personal gain?”

“It wasn’t a respectable home.”

He scoffed, “Says the woman who’s never satisfied with anything. Nothing and no one is ever good enough for you.”

At the end of her patience under his judgement, she spat, “She was with my mother, Asriel.”

The way his face paled softened her resolve. She imagined, for Asriel, nothing could be worse. It was why she’d kept the knowledge to herself for so long.

“What?”

“I didn’t know she was there,” she pressed softly. “I swear. I only recently learned the truth of it.”

“And I’m supposed to just take your word for it, am I?” He once again found himself and glared at her even harder, squeezing her arm to the point of bringing a flinch out of her. “Trust you?”

“The picture... I recognized the house.” She sighed, already tired. “I’m trying to protect her, Asriel. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

His heated gaze didn’t lessen as he held her to the wall, but his grip did loosen enough to allow her to finally breath easier.

“So, you brought her here?” He frowned and gestured with a hand twisting in front of her. “Does she know who you are?”

”Yes,” she answered softly, feeling the words tickle her throat. “She knows I’m her mother.”

”So, this is real? You’re going to keep her? Why the change of heart, Marisa? Have you-“

“I’m pregnant.”

The admission was enough to halt the rest of what he’d meant to say as his eyes widened and he stepped back, all contact with her ceasing and leaving her with the opportunity to elaborate.

“So, I hope you were serious when you said you wanted to marry me because I refuse to be scandalized by you again.”

“I-“ His eyes ventured from her belly to her eyes then back again. “That’s-“ With a shake of his head, he cleared his throat and asked, “I thought you were worried about the Magisterium.”

“They’ll be taken care of.” With his anger seemingly quenched, she finally smiled, laying her hand to his cheek. “I can have you restored; all your lands, estates... everything.”

If the man hadn’t been speechless before, he was now. However, like Lyra, he failed to respond the way she’d hoped.

“Under what condition? They hate me.” Eyes narrowing, he asked, accusation lacing his tone, “What bargain did you make?”

Once again she stepped off the precipice. This was the goal she’d been working toward over the last week. Since learning of her pregnancy, she’d made the rounds and manipulated MacPhail into thinking it was the perfect way to spy on Asriel. It had been some of her best work; the way she’d kept all true feeling from being revealed and showing him only the resentment she felt for a man who’d still maintained his status even as she’d been ripped to shreds by all of London. Lying by using the truth, she’d found, was her best weapon.

“If I can assure them you will cease your exploration into multiple worlds. I’ve already spoken with MacPhail about it.”

The solemn nod he extended was difficult to read. She couldn’t determine his thoughts prompting her to add, “They will be willing to give everything back to you, allow us to marry, so long as I give positive reports on-”

“Oh, I see quite clearly,” he seethed, voice rising dangerously. “Your intention is to control me.”

Eyes flickering to Lyra’s room, she grabbed him by the arm and shuffled him into her bedroom. Lyra wasn’t the deepest sleeper and she wasn’t willing to have Asriel sprung on her in the middle of the night.

Once the door was closed, she spun, arms crossed, and tilted her head at him.

“Yes.” When he moved to reply, she quickly added, “And you should be grateful for it.”

“Grateful?” he all but growled. “I should be grateful that you’ve promised something you can’t deliver?”

“Asriel, you can do whatever you want,” she reasoned, holding out her hands, exasperation taking hold. “And you don’t have to beg for scraps or look over your shoulder.”

“So, long as they allow it, right? Or, should I say, you allow it,” he argued, thrusting a hand in her direction.

“I don’t care what you do,” she argued, aggravated by his lack of imagination. “Just don’t make a show of it. Allow your name to disappear from their minds.”

“Marisa, I will not agree to this- to being your- your-“

“Husband?” She offered softly, feigning all the hurt she denied was real. “Father of my children?”

He sighed at that, running his hands through his hair as he settled on the edge of the bed, elbow to his knees and head in his hands. “Since when are you so sentimental?”

“I’m not being sentimental. I’m being realistic. If you don’t agree to this, I’ll have to-“

As she choked on her words, he lifted his searching gaze to her. “Have to... what?”

“I won’t be degraded again, Asriel.” She took a deep breath and decided the information may be enough of a push. “I will have a husband within the month whether it’s you or not.”

“How romantic,” he drawled, rolling his eyes. “I love you, too, Marisa.”

Teeth grinding, she shook her head at him even as her eyes burned with tears she refused to let fall. She would not weep for this man regardless of how visibly anguished her daemon was for his.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” he asked, arms spread wide. “Make light of your great love for me? It seems rather fitting as you’ve endlessly mocked me for so long for mine.”

Tearing her eyes from him, she chose instead to stare at Stel, who was daring her daemon to touch her; the separation palpable. Oz was hunched at her feet looking every bit the part of a desperate lover.

It infuriated her.

“And you once accused me of manipulating you with the girl.” He chuckled, though without any of the warmth she was accustomed to. “You took what I did and magnified it with not only the girl, but a baby, marriage proposal, and my name. I won’t be controlled, Marisa.”

“Then, get out,” she spat, eyes blazing back to him as the tightness of her chest began to overwhelm her. “I don’t need you, Asriel. It was an offer and nothing more, but Lyra stays with me.”

It was like watching water roll off a duck’s back; the way his anger seemed to melt away to be replaced by gentle curiosity.

“You want her?”

“I will never be parted from her again.” She brought her hand to her belly. “From either of them.”

For a long moment, he simply stared at her; assessing her like she was laid bare before him, every feeling on display. “Why can’t you just admit it? That you’re not incapable of love?”

“Why can’t you just let it go?” She deflected, giving him a hard look. “Your vendetta against the Magisterium. Don’t deny that it started with what happened at your trial.”

“Would you?” He regained his feet and approached her. “Whether you truly think you committed a shameful, sin laced act with me or not isn’t the point any longer, Marisa. There’s an entire world who thinks they have to bow down to the Magisterium and it’s archaic rule; who will never be allowed to truly express themselves for fear of retribution.” More gentle than she could have prayed for, he laid his palm against her cheek. “I know your faith in your project is as strong as mine. Would you sacrifice your beliefs for me?”

Grinding her teeth together, she dug her nails into her arms to keep from reaching out to him. “No.”

_Yes._

Yes, she would throw it all away for Lyra, for him. There was no need to show him such base weakness, though. Especially not when he was rejecting her and all she wanted for them; all she’d done to insure their survival.

His eyes danced over her but before he could reply, an unexpected knock came at the door.

“Mama?”

Even after three days of hearing it, the word still called her heart to her throat. Shoving him from view, she opened the door to find Lyra clutching Pan to her chest, a tight frown creasing her brow.

Smiling at her daughter, she brushed her hair from her big eyes and asked, “What’s wrong, darling?”

“I heard shouting.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, taking Lyra by the shoulder to steer her back to her room while praying Asriel wouldn’t follow. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“Pan was worried,” Lyra muttered and she knew the girl was putting on as she was more fearful than anything else given away by the slight tremble of her voice.

“Oh, you needn’t worry,” she assured, leading Lyra to her bed and pulling back the covers, smile bright as she ushered the girl into bed. “You’re perfectly safe here.”

As Lyra settled, she took a seat beside her and brushed her hair from her face again. It was likely the thousandth time she’d done it and she saw no need to stop. She’d be willing to bet Lyra enjoyed the touch more than she did. Three days and she was already absolutely bereft of any of her former defenses against Lyra. She’d lie, steal, and kill anyone who dared even think of bringing harm to her child. It was the most irrational feeling she’d ever had.

“It wasn’t me. It was Pan who was worried.”

Pan scowled as he curled in the crook of Lyra’s neck and shoulder.

“I see. Well, I’m sure you’re brave enough for the both of you.” She raised a brow. “Now, get some sleep. We shall have a long day tomorrow.”

“But-“

“No buts,” she murmured softly, tucking Lyra’s covers around her. “You’ve never been safer than you are now.”

Lyra didn’t seem convinced, but she consented anyway, a heavy sigh on her lips.“Ok. If you say so.”

“I say so.” Shutting off the lamp, she stood and backed to the door. “Sleep well.”

“Night, mama.”

Hand on the knob, she smiled and pulled it close. “Good night.”

Door closed, she paused a beat and sighed. Having Lyra here was undoubtedly a relief. Where before she’d felt trepidation at the thought of having to provide smiles and tenderness to a child she barely knew, she now found herself pouring it out in generous doses without any actual intention of doing so. Lyra had crawled into her heart and had a field day with it.

When she made it back to her room, instead of finding him heading for the door, she found him laid back on her bed, eyes on the ceiling in seemingly deep thought. Rather than directly heading toward him, she veered to her vanity and began removing her jewelry and hair pins.

“I thought you’d be gone by now.” She decided she’d run him off if he wouldn’t leave on his own. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll attempt to control you?”

“You know, all I wanted was to come here, make love to you, and rest.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she huffed, shifting from one foot to the other. “Don’t wake her again.”

“Come here, love.”

Her body nearly jolted for him, but she stood firm and continued undressing, slipping her dress off and hanging it over the back of the chair.

“No.”

She could practically feel his eyes burning her. The control he had over her was something she’d come to accept if only for her sanity, but that didn’t mean he had to know it.

“Marisa, get in this bed with me.”

“Asriel,” she whispered, exhaustion lacing her tone. “I don’t want to-“

His hands suddenly crept around her waist, pulling her back into his chest. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” His soft words were murmured in her hair. “I want you to be my wife.”

“Could have fooled me,” she whispered, setting down her last pin, freeing her hair completely.

His hands fell to her belly, coarse against her smooth skin from a month of labor in the north. “I never thought I’d see the day you played mommy.”

The urge to slap him occurred to her, but the way he spun her around and knelt to murmur against her belly, kissing her skin softly, halted all those thoughts.

“You’re sure?” he asked, fingers dancing along her thighs as he held her close.

“No doubt,” she replied, brushing a few stray strands from his forehead. “We haven’t been all that careful.”

“Did you do it on purpose?” His eyes lifted to her with surprisingly little accusation. “You never once said anything about protection.”

That was a question for the ages, one even she didn’t know the answer to. Yes, she’d always been more reckless with him than anyone else. They never discussed being safe about their intimacy. They just fell into each other without regard for anything.

Rather than lie, she chose the truth. “I don’t know.”

He smiled at that, a soft glint in his eyes. “I adore you.”

A smirk crossed her lips as she gently scratched at his scalp. “Obviously. You keep returning as though you’re enchanted despite my constant ridicule.”

He chuckled, his warm breath tickling her skin as he kissed her belly again. “I love you.”

Heart alight beneath her hopefully passive exterior, she lifted a finger to trace over his eyes. “Hmm.”

“I want to marry you.”

Across the room, her daemon, practically shrouded in contentment, draped himself over Stel. “But?”

“No but,” he whispered, regaining his feet and draping his arms around her waist. “Lady Belacqua.”

“Mmm,” she murmured, dragging her thigh along his side and resting her calf over his. “No one’s ever thought to call me a lady before.”

“You’ve never been a lady before.” He laughed and slapped a hand to her ass, pulling her hips roughly against his. “I might have to teach you the proper etiquette.”

Thinking of Lyra, she offered, “Well, I’ve never met a lady who’s had an ounce of fun in her life.”

Even as he grinned at her, she could see the gears shifting in his eyes. “What happens if you catch me doing something I shouldn’t?”

Nails digging into his neck, she brushed her lips against his and murmured, “I’ll punish you.”

“Well, in that case...” He reached in his jacket and pulled out a chain with something dangling from the end. “My grandmother’s ring.”

So it was. A square cut sapphire set on a silver band. She didn’t know whether to curse him or kiss him.

Eyes shifting to his, she asked, “How long has that been in your pocket?”

He only grinned, all satisfaction and smugness. “A man is entitled to a few secrets.”

Rather than accept his offering, she took his chin between her fingers, leveling their gazes. “Promise me you’ll stop.”

“Tell me you love me,” he returned without missing a beat.

A breathless laugh escaped without her consent. “It seems we’re at a stalemate, then.”

He swung the chain with a growl, catching the ring in his hand before he lifted and set her on the vanity, easily slipping to stand between her parted thighs.

“You’re going to admit it, Marisa,” he murmured at her ear, settling his hands on her upper thighs. “Tell me.”

Fingers in his hair, she turned her face to press kisses to his cheek. “I don’t hate you.”

Another growl was all she received as he dug his fingers into her flesh, one hand creeping up to splay over her lower back and press her tight to him again, his need evident as he swiveled his hips against her underwear.

“And you clearly don’t hate me,” she laughed, crossing her ankles behind him and drawing him even closer.

“I love you,” he whispered, tilting back to catch her eyes. “I’ve always loved you, Marisa.”

Eyes fluttering against her will, she shook her head. “Now, who’s being sentimental?”

“It’s not sentiment.” He lifted his hand, the pads of his fingers on her cheek. “It’s the only real truth I know.”

“Oh, Asriel, must you be so sappy?” she groaned, toying with the buttons along his shirt. “I believe I’ve mentioned before how unbecoming it is.”

“What’s unbecoming is how stubborn you are,” he growled, releasing her and unwinding the chain from his hand. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Even as she said it, she felt her heart practically hammering at her chest. “Are you going to consent or not? You know I don’t like being kept waiting.”

The way he sighed spoke volumes to how aggravated he was, but he held the ring, now free of the chain, between them. “I’m not asking or going to my knees.”

“I’ve seen you on your knees plenty for far better reasons,” she teased. “And I believe I shall go down as the one who proposed.”

“I’ve asked you to marry me half a dozen times.” Brow arched, he titled his head and smirked, “You do not get the credit.”

His fingers slid under hers as he lifted her hand, the other taking Edward’s ring and twisting it off. He, then, held it between them, rolling it between his fingers. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“A shorter time than I.”

His pride was unmistakable as he slid the new band onto her finger. “I promise to stay quiet about what I’m doing.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “But I don’t share, Marisa.”

“Is that you’re archaic way of saying only you get to fuck me, now?”

“I’m not Edward.”

“No one’s ever accused you of that.” When he didn’t seem moved to relief, she stroked his cheek and murmured against his lips, “And I don’t share either.”

“Well,” he grunted, hoisting her up and turning toward the bed. “I believe this deserves a proper consummation, my lady.”

To her last day, she’d deny her school girl giggle.


	8. Lady Belacqua

A gentle, spring breeze wafted over the garden, stirring up the perfume of the richly colored flowers, which may have well been a tonic to lull the reception guests away from inquiring thoughts and into something more akin to laughter and merriment.

It really was a beautiful day, one most brides would croon on and on about, gushing over every little detail like it was pretty as a picture. If only she could muster enough of that bridal joy to overshadow the obvious discontentment on her brother’s face; the only face in the whole garden which didn’t have a smile plastered on it.

_ “This is absurdity,” Marcel snapped at her, slamming his hands on the desk in what she considered to be an overly dramatic and completely unnecessary fashion. “You will not do this!” _

_ Not even bothering to lift her gaze from the documents before her, she gave a listless reply, “It’s already done.” _

_ “You have disgraced this family over and over,” he continued. “First, whoring yourself to father’s friends and then daring to produce that bastard girl. I will not allow you to do it again.” _

_ “Allow me?” Finally lifting her gaze to her brother’s practically purple, hostile one, she raised a brow, “Whoring myself? Is that what I did, Marcel?” _

_ “Yes, that is exactly what you did. I can still remember how you fawned over them .” _

_ If she wasn’t so keen on keeping her control, she’d have stabbed him with her pen by now. The absolute audacity... _

_ “I was supposed to say no? When father had made the arrangements?” She smiled as though speaking with a child. “What good would that have done me, Marcel?” _

_ “Mother’s right. You’ve always been a sick, twisted, little bitch,” he growled, vein in his neck bulging. “You got off on the attention.” _

_ “My daemon was barely settled,” she returned just as hotly. “I had no choice. Are you going to stand there and judge me for making the best out of the lot I was given?” _

_ “Well, you have choices now, sister, and look at you.” He whirled around, hands in the air as though he had an audience to which he could show off his self imposed, but absolute lack of superiority. “In bed with that filth again and ready to make him a member of our family.” _

_ “And as I told you, I have an arrangement with-“ _

_ “Oh, fuck off, Marisa,” he spat, turning back to her as his daemon lowered her head and spread her wings low, golden eyes unblinking as she watched Oz from her perched position on the bookshelf. “Don’t lie to me. You’ve been submissive with him from the start; his willing whore whenever he comes calling.” _

_ Patience slamming into the wall she’d erected, she snapped sardonically, “Do you have a bet going on how many times you can call me a whore in a single conversation?” _

_ His smirk was practically sadistic. “Well, if the shoe fits.” _

_ Without warning, the door opened, drawing both of their heated gazes. Asriel stepped in and crossed his arms, gaze leveling both of them with that cool, overbearing presence. _

_ “Lyra’s home.” With a glance at the clock, she found it to be later than she’d thought. “And your voices are carrying.” _

_ Standing from her seat, she pulled a tight smile to her lips. “Did you want to say it once more? Just to get it out of your system?” _

_ Marcel glanced at Asriel, who was unmoving, then at Stel who’s teeth were bared as she stepped toward Oz, before he straightened his jacket. “You’re deluding yourself, Marisa, if you think anyone is going to buy this.” _

_ “Either way, it’s beyond your realm of allowance. So, get on board or get out.” _

_ Her brother was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot. With a smug smile, he stepped forward and kissed her cheek before stepping around Asriel who didn’t even move to let him out the door. _

“Ignore him,” Asriel whispered at her ear as she forced a smile for the sake of the group of guests surrounding them who were rambling about some invention or another they were wishing Asriel to look over.

The ceremony had been simple enough; soft, elegant, everything neither she nor Asriel were. However, it had been perfectly the way she’d wanted it. The guest list had been pristinely selected with all the right people, most of whom she could hardly stand to look at much less speak to, but necessary to their future survival; Magisterium officials, scholars, etc. 

The discussion of the actual day between she and Asriel had been brief as he’d had little interest in the planning. 

_“It’ll have to be handled delicately,” she murmured, jotting a few notes along the sides of her planner. “With class.”_

_“Or we could just toss it out there and let it be what it is,” he muttered, flipping a page in his book._

_Twisting the skin at his hip, she pinched him, delighting in the twitch of his leg beneath the blankets. The man was absolutely infuriating._

_“Every reporter in London will have an opinion about it,” she reminded, irritated by his lack of acknowledgement. “They need to be directed. We can’t just toss any narrative out there and hope they have the sense to correctly run with it.”_

_A snort was his only response, prompting her to catch his chin between her fingers, drawing his gaze to hers._

_“Additionally, Lyra will be focused on as much as us, if not more. We need to make sure a positive spin is put on her involvement.”_

_“Marisa, I’m sure whatever you tell them will be taken just as you hope.” He dropped his book and rolled to face her, propping his head in his hand. “Just don’t set me up to be some lovesick fool and I’ll agree to whatever narrative you play.”_

_“So lie, then?” she teased, delighting in his annoyance._

_“Well, I’d never want to keep you from your favorite pastime,” he returned, eyes glinting with mischief as his fingers danced along her belly, toying with the silky material._

_Dropping her pen, she ran her finger over his lips while lifting a suggestive eyebrow. “I assure you, that is hardly my favorite pastime.”_

“I imagine she’s quite excited to be living in London, now.”

“Well, she’s a bit tenacious,” Asriel informed with a chuckle. “She’d much rather run along rooftops or lob rocks at boys than curtsy.”

That drew her attention back to their group. All she needed was word of how wild Lyra was to spread before she’d had time to attempt taming the girl a little.

“But she’ll learn,” she offered with a tight smile at her husband. “She’s a rather quick student; brilliant and eager really.”

Asriel cast her a sideways look to let her know the blatant over exaggeration wasn’t missed which she ignored as their group continued to make comments on how wonderful it was that they could finally be a family, raise Lyra, and so on.

With Lyra in mind, she allowed her gaze to sweep the garden until she found her daughter seated alongside her mother on a bench under a shade tree, rambling on dramatically about something her mother couldn’t have appeared less interested in.

One thing she’d learned about Lyra was that it didn’t matter if you were listening or not, she was going to finish her stories one way or another. If she ever learned to control herself a bit, she really was going to be a force to be reckoned with someday.

As she winded through the guests, attempting to greet as many as possible, she kept a sharp look out for Lyra, making sure she stayed out of trouble. Another thing she’d discovered in the couple of weeks Lyra had been living under her roof was just how sneaky she was. Leave the girl alone for a minute and she’d disappear to breathe mischief into every room of the apartment and beyond. Oz was exhausted with trailing after her when she couldn’t and she knew he didn’t appreciate the job.

And the questions... they never ceased.

_“But why?”_

_Sucking in a deep breath, she attempted to steady herself as yet another question fell from her daughter’s lips. “Because it’s important to create connections. School will allow that for you.”_

_“Madame Delamare said it was better to be homeschooled,” Lyra informed with a huff as she turned the page of her text. “That way she knew I was properly learning.”_

_Biting the side of her cheek, she held in the snappy retort about her mother’s controlling nature and instead answered, “Well, my mother doesn’t know everything.”_

_Lyra narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you’re the one who’s right?”_

_“Lyra,” she warned, leaning close so the girl could see just how near she was to her last nerve. “You’re going and that’s final.”_

_Rather than cower and submit, Lyra squared her shoulders and replied, “That’s not an answer. Madame Delamare says when people deflect a question it means they don’t have a good answer and are only trying to distract you.” Lyra’s lip twitched as she added, “She says you’re very good at it, too.”_

_Heat swelled in her chest. If there was one thing she wasn’t going to tolerate, it was her mother speaking through her daughter._

_“And you think Madame Delamare’s way is the better way to live? Alone? Closed up in her manor with her daemon and only stuffy old lords and ladies to visit with?”_

_Lyra’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t say that.”_

_“Then, heed my advice and cease with mentions of my mother, Lyra,“ she snapped and turned back to her papers. “I don’t care for them.”_

_A solid minute passed before she heard a small sigh come from her daughter. The dejected sound drew her eyes to find Lyra thumbing the edges of her book, brow creased as she chewed at her lips. Pan was nudging her neck with his nose, clearly trying to encourage her._

_“You’re not reading,” she offered softly._

_“Are you angry with me?”_

_The whisper was so low that she briefly wondered if she’d imagined it._

_“Of course not.” She reached to curl a few stray strands of hair over her daughter’s ear. “It’s just occurring to me you may have too much of me in you.”_

_That perked Lyra up, smile breaking out. “I like being like you.”_

_“Better than your father?” she teased, finding all her previous agitation now gone._

_“Immensely,” Lyra replied with a giggle. “He’s so moody and grouchy.”_

_“I suppose I’m glad you’ve taken after me, too, then. We can’t have two of him running around here.”  
  
_

“I see you took my advice.”

Biting her cheek, she turned to Boreal, who’d eased up behind her, flute of champagne in hand.

“Your advice?” she wondered, drawing a tight smile as she took in his finely pressed suit, all black like he was at a funeral rather than a wedding.

“About staying away from him.” Boreal cast a scrutinizing glance in Asriel’s direction. “It’s astounding how quickly he managed to turn events in his favor.”

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, she answered rather simply, “As I recall, I told you my personal life was none of your concern.”

His daemon slithered across his chest, tongue tasting the air.

“And what of the child?” he asked, gaze sweeping to Lyra, summoning a sudden warning in her gut. “Will it be raised in London, now?”

“She’s not your concern either,” she spat, nails digging into her palms. “Your position with me is to report, not offer unsolicited advice.”

“Is it still?” he asked, gaze finally settling on her, dark eyes devoid of any warmth. “Last I checked, I was to be gathering intel on Asriel’s movements so you could use it against him.”

“And you still will,” she offered, smile unwavering. “Out of sight. Asriel doesn’t need to know that.”

“I imagine there are many things he doesn’t need to know,” he suggested, flute at his lips. “My price hasn’t changed.”

“Nor my need,” she replied stiffly.

Before he could add anything further, Asriel’s arm slipped around her waist.“I see the snake made the guest list.”

“Only just,” she assured, turning to him with a bright smile and straightening his tie. “He was failing miserably in his attempt to offer us congratulations.”

Asriel didn’t look at her, his eyes still trained on Boreal as he took a sip of his own drink. “Is that so?”

Stel slipped to her other side, closing her in between she and Asriel. It’d be sweet if it wasn’t so archaic and possessive.

“Oh, yes,” Boreal chimed in, tilting his glass toward Asriel. “Lord and Lady Belacqua, at last. Such a shame it came at such a high cost.”

Asriel’s fingers dug into her side as he all but burned the man with his gaze.

“Oh,” Marcel offered as he joined their company. “I agree. I’m sure Edward would be thrilled for his whore, her heretic, and their little bastard.”

The step Asriel took was lost in her dress as she maneuvered in front of him, hands to his chest as she whispered, “If you can’t handle a name or two thrown our way, we should end this now.”

The way his chest hummed with rage matched only by Stelmaria’s growl had her own heart thumping quick. The last thing they needed was Asriel lashing out with Magisterium officials sprinkled all around them.

“Asriel,” she warned, tapping his arm. “Check on Lyra. I’d like a moment with my brother.”

He bristled at her dismissal, eyes falling to hers with a heat she knew would find and consume her later. However, he knew the rules of public appearances.

With a kiss to her cheek, he whispered, “If I have to let it go, so do you, Marisa.”

She tried. She really did. However, it wasn’t to be as Asriel’s embrace left her and he walked away, leaving her to spin and face her brother.

Hardly sparing Boreal a glance, she snapped, “Your presence is unwelcome. Fix it.”

The man chuckled again as he walked away.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

She’d not spoken to her brother since his visit to lecture her two weeks prior. She still wasn’t sure how word had leaked to him so quickly when hardly anyone had known of her and Asriel’s intentions.

“Oh, Isa,” he murmured, stepping forward to invade her space. “That’s a bit dirty for a mother, isn’t it?”

“We had an agreement,” she spat. “Besides, shouldn’t you be licking your wounds somewhere? Moaning to mother about how underrated you are?”

He rolled his eyes and turned to look at the other guests, a pleasant expression slipping into place to match her own. One would never guess the siblings were on the verge of tearing into each other.

“You haven’t won just because they’re buying into your little fairytale right now. These people are ignorant, sister.”

As a few guests passed and nodded at them, she and Marcel both shoved smiles to their faces.

“Lovers redeemed and reunited to raise their child in the light of the Authority.” Marcel laughed. “You really are pathological.”

“Says my other half,” she murmured, fingers itching for a glass of champagne, anything to dull her mind a little. “You don’t have to be so openly coarse. Even you should understand we need to maintain our image.”

“Marisa, you’ve managed to play your cards right this time by using MacPhail’s desire to root out Asriel to your advantage, but this isn’t going to last.” He gave her a side glance. “I nearly feel sorry for you, but the truly sad story will be the girl.”

Teeth grinding, she followed his gaze to Lyra, who was now rambling on to Asriel, who seemed even less interested than her mother had.

“She’ll be the true victim when it’s all said and done.” He shrugged. “You and Asriel weren’t designed to be parents.”

“So you’ve said,” she reminded, turning back to him. “If it is to fall apart, dear brother, you’d better pray you’re not to blame.”

“Tsk, tsk, Isa,” he murmured, stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You know I’d never hurt you. Then again, this is all a game, isn’t it? You don’t love him, you’re just spying.”

Violence swirled in her chest, desperate to crawl out of her and swallow him whole. She settled for biting her nails into his wrist, deep enough to draw blood, and enjoying the sharp cry his daemon made behind him.

“Exactly.”

With a chuckle, he withdrew his hand and walked away from her, leaving her to breathe a sigh of relief as her eyes turned toward Asriel and Lyra once more.

He was helping her with a clip in her hair and she smiled and rested a hand over the still imperceptible life growing within her while considering how deeply uncomfortable he was.

_Sleepiness clung to her muscles as she made her way down the hallway and into the living room. Asriel had been missing from her bed and, upon a quick glance, Lyra was nowhere to be found in her room._

_When she reached the living room, laughter from the balcony drew her gaze. There they were, Lyra kneeling on the bench as Asriel stood next to her, both of them leaning over the balcony and looking out over the city._

_Moving to hover in the doorway, she watched as Asriel pointed out things for Lyra, who was listening in what she could only call unadulterated fascination; eyes wide and mouth slightly parted._

_Once again, this wasn’t exactly the way it was supposed to happen, but she found, watching them, that she didn’t quite mind this time._

_Lyra abruptly spun around as Pan jumped to her shoulder. “Mama.”_

_Asriel titled his head to look at her before turning back to the view as she walked over to them._

_“Did you know father’s seen an armored bear?” Lyra asked excitedly. “That he’s fought Tartars?”_

_“Is that so?” She ran her fingers through Lyra’s hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Well, that must be where you get your sense of adventure.”_

_Oz jumped up to sit next to Lyra, dark eyes on Stel as she laid a few feet away, tail lazily swaying on the stones._

_While Lyra went on saying something else Asriel had told her, she scratched her fingers down Asriel’s back, taking note of his standoffish demeanor._

_“Lyra,” she interrupted, sparing the girl another glance. “Go ring for breakfast.”_

_“Yes!”_

_Lyra jumped up and bounced toward the door._

_“What’s wrong?” she murmured, pressing into his side._

_“She talks a lot,” he replied, gaze set on the river. “Rambles incessantly.”_

_Biting back a grin, she answered, “You have no idea.”_

_“I don’t like unexpected things,” he griped, eyes glinting in the morning light._

_“Well, she’s not that unexpected.” Fingers in his hair, she teased, “She’s been around for eight years.”_

_“She’s exhausting,” he groaned, palming his eyes and rubbing. “And it’s only been fifteen minutes.”_

_“Perhaps, your exhaustion is from keeping me up for half the night.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “If I weren’t already pregnant, I certainly would be now.”_

_“You know that’s not very lady like talk,” he said, finally grinning at her as an arm slipped around her. “If you’re going to be my wife, you’ll need to work on that.”_

_“Ladies are boring.”_

_Abruptly turning her head, she found Lyra grinning in the doorway as she all but skipped to her seat at the table._

_Unable to suppress her own grin, she turned to join Lyra and said, “Agreed.”_

_The staff brought in breakfast and set it down before quietly excusing themselves._

_“So, you’re my father, then?” Lyra asked, sitting back and studying Asriel, who took a seat across from her and leaned forward on crossed arms._

_“I’m fairly certain that has been established.”_

_Lyra mimicked Asriel by sitting on her knees and leaning against the table. “You’re not what I imagined.”_

_“And what did you imagine?”_

_“Someone better looking than me,” she answered simply, lifting a piece of bacon and biting it off. “Guess all my good looks came from mother.”_

_She wasn’t sure if her pride could stand it. Laughter slipped from her lips as she watched Asriel lift an eyebrow at her to which she only grinned and lifted her orange juice._

_“Apparently so did your sense of humor,” he grunted. “It could use some work.”_

_Lyra glanced at her before pursing her lips and giving him a once over. “Who needs humor when you’re always a winner?”_

_Asriel finally chucked and shook his head. “Perhaps, she is more your daughter than mine, after all.”_

_Catching Lyra’s glint of victory, she shrugged, “I needed no confirmation.”_

“What are you two going on about?”

  
  
Both Lyra and Asriel looked bored to pieces.

Lyra spun with an exasperated look. “There’s so many stuffy, old people here.”

“Lyra,” her mother scolded, snapping a finger at her. “Don’t be rude.”

Asriel grunted, “The stuffiest one’s right here.”

Lyra giggled while her mother scowled and moved to speak. However, she cut in before she could.

“Darling,” she said, tucking Lyra’s hair over her ear. “Perhaps, you could convince your grandmother to take you back to the apartment.”

The disgusted look her mother gave at the familial term brought a deep satisfaction to her.

“Can we please go?” Lyra begged, spinning to face her mother.

Her mother lifted a brow at Lyra’s grammar, prompting Lyra to straighten her back and say, “May we please leave?”

“Very well.”

As her mother stood, she took Lyra by the shoulders and turned her before grasping her chin. “You’ll behave for Ms. Taylor. She’ll be waiting for you at the apartment.”

“I promise,” Lyra assured, knowing misbehavior with her nanny would lead to punishment.

When the two were leaving, she felt Asriel stand beside her. “I don’t like Lyra alone with her.”

With a sigh, she turned back to him. “She won’t hurt her. It baffles me, but she cares about her.”

Asriel didn’t seem convinced, prompting her to lift up and kiss him, drawing his attention back where it should be.

When his body finally relaxed under her touch, she whispered against his lips, “Do you think we could manage to sneak out of here?”

He grinned into her kiss, “We don’t have to sneak anymore. We can walk out right in front of them.”

“Hmm.” Taking his hand, she nodded toward the exit. “Shall we?”

“Whatever you want, Lady Belacqua.”


	9. Guilt Seeps Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love reading all of your reviews. Thank you so much for your kind words!

” _ Mama!” _

Bolting upright, she blinked against the darkness, fighting off the disoriented feeling clogging her head, only to find herself enveloped in near pitch blackness as she searched for the source of her assailant.

“M’risa?” Asriel murmured as he rolled to wrap an arm around her.

Finally realizing where she was, she sighed and laid back, bringing a hand to wipe down her face, the screams still rattling around in her brain.

“What’s wrong?” Asriel whispered, pulling closer to her, the warmth from his body consoling the erratic beat of her heart.

“Nothing,” she answered, smoothing a hand along his arm. “Just a dream. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm.”

He grew still again, his breathing even and soothing. Most nights she fell asleep to his low breathing, almost a purr, that lulled her right into a state of bliss. However, as she lightly scratched at a raised scar on his arm, she knew sleep would not come to her.

Gently easing from his embrace, she slipped from the bed and reached for the robe draped over the chair. As she exited the room, she drew it around her and moved down the hallway, keeping as quiet as possible.

The Belacqua family home was massive and she still wasn’t quite accustomed to the quiet of it. The last fifteen years of her life had been spent in the center of London where there was always something happening; always people around to keep her in the present. Country life was very different from London life. The next house was acres away and she sometimes felt pressed, as if suffocated by the silence. The quiet allowed for too much thinking which led her to places she had no desire to visit.

Asriel and Lyra both loved it, though. Albeit, for very different reasons.

To her chagrin, Lyra now could disappear for hours at a time; using the many trees and hills to hide from her overprotective mother. The Gyptian children had also discovered Lyra’s new home, creating an entirely different kind of worry. However, Asriel has convinced her to allow the friendships as, for some reason, he had a soft spot for the people.

That soft spot likely had to do with the fact that, like the Gyptians, her husband was also a loner; solitary. If not for his charisma, she was sure the man could slip into nonexistence in many people’s minds. He used the quiet of the manor to muddle over gadgets and books, always preoccupied by something or another.

At times, the only attention she received was when she practically demanded it.

_”Are you ever going to come to bed?” she asked from the doorway where she’d been observing his mumbling to himself or Stel for a few minutes now._

_For close to an hour, she’d been staring at the wall, the ceiling, anything and everything to help her think of anything other than the fact that her husband was two floors below her, tinkering away at some ridiculous gadget while she laid there without him._

_Without so much as a glance in her direction, he replied, “Surely you don’t require my presence to sleep.”_

  
_  
“Hardly,” she lied, even throwing in a scoff as she ventured further into his lab. “I had something else in mind.”_

_Though she couldn’t see his face, she knew there was a smirk on it._

_”And what might that be?”_

_”Use your imagination,” was her answer as she saddled up beside him._

_”I couldn’t possibly,” he muttered, bending over his desk to examine some odd shaped instrument._

_Pure frustration tugged at her nerves as he became fixated on something else._

_”Asriel,” she said, wanting his eyes, but failing to procure them._

_”Mhm,” he murmured, setting the instrument down and reaching for another._

_The man had been down here all day and she was absolutely finished with it. If he wouldn’t come to her, she’d have to make do with what she had._

_Without any warning, she slipped her hand around his waist and edged at his belt, deftly slipping the leather through the buckle._

_”Marisa-“ he stuttered for a moment as her hand pressed past all barriers and took hold of him._

_At his ear, she whispered, “I don’t like being ignored.”_

_His chuckle shook them both as he set his distractions down and turned to face her, a ridiculous grin stretching his lips. “Are you happy, now?”_

_Brow lifted, she muttered against his lips, “Not quite,” before sinking to her knees and tugging him free, eyes never departing from his._

_When her lips finally touched him, he relaxed against his desk, fingers gripping the edge, and said, “Well, if this is my punishment for ignoring you, I’ll have to do it more often.”_

_Grinning around him, she pulled his pants further down to dig her fingers into his flesh, fully intent on punishing him deeply._

Upon reaching the door adjacent to their own, she opened it and crept inside, careful to avoid making any noise.

When her fingers finally gripped the side of the crib, she gazed down at her son, taking in the easy rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes fluttered beneath the lids, and the way his puckered lips moved with every exhale. He seemed to be resting peacefully, which stopped her from lifting him out no matter how much she wanted to do just that, fingers practically itching to touch him.

With a sigh, she rested her head in her hands as she leaned against the crib, the screams still echoing around her brain.

Since her return from Bolvangar earlier in the evening, she’d not been able to erase the sounds of the children, clawing at the doors of the cages, screaming for their mothers. Even the orphans, children she knew lacked maternal affections, had called out for something they’d never even had. It was innate; instinctive; something so ingrained in their very dna that she wasn’t even sure they knew what they’d done.

It had rattled her.

The reports had come across her desk. Things at Bolvanger had been progressing exceedingly well, if not stressful. Twenty children had been separated in the last three months and the two that had survived had been devoid of anything resembling consciousness... but they were alive. No one quite knew why, but it had been so revolutionary that once she’d been cleared for travel after Lynx’s birth, she’d made the journey to see it for herself.

And she had seen it. And felt it. And become sick over it.

Never before had it mattered. She’d seen them cut, dead, cold; bodies nothing more than a trial run. It was all for the better, she’d told herself after the first separation. It would change the world. Then, the next, a dark haired girl of six who had given the doctors a fit while being forced in the machine, had screamed for her mother. The helpless plea had torn from the girl and flew right into her, piercing her to the core.

That night, the dreams started, only it was Lyra screaming, and she hadn’t been able to help her no matter how hard she’d fought. The first doubts had come with that first dream and, in the two weeks since, they’d only grown. Now, she was haunted by them with every step.

“Mama?”

The unexpected sound of Lyra’s voice drew her gaze to the window seat. There Lyra lay, a small blanket pulled up to her chin as she stared at her through heavy lids.

“What are you doing in here?” she whispered softly, closing the distance between she and her daughter.

Lyra sat up and wiped at her eyes. “It was storming. I didn’t want Lynx to be alone.”

“Ah.” Taking a seat beside Lyra, she wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her head. “You’re a wonderful big sister.”

Pan shifted into a cat, nuzzling into Oz, who was gently running his black fingers through his fur.

“I’m glad you came home,” Lyra whispered, tilting her head back and gazing at her with all the innocence she imagined she possessed. “Father doesn’t do well when you aren’t here.”

“Is that so?” she asked with a chuckle. “And what does he do?”

“He’s so much grouchier,” Lyra griped, with a big sigh. “And he yells at Thorold a lot about practically nothing at all.”

“Isn’t he like that all the time?”

“No.” Wide eyed, Lyra quickly shook her head. “It’s terrible when you’re gone. I think he missed you.”

She’d deny the warm feeling that swelled in her to her last day.

“I missed you, too.” Lyra snuggled into her side. “Promise you won’t leave again.”

Lifting a hand, she brushed Lyra’s hair, fingers combing the silky darkness. “My work is important, Lyra. You’ll understand someday.”

“I don’t want to understand,” she replied, tightening her arms around her. “I’ve missed you my whole life. I don’t want to miss you anymore.”

That tight feeling returned to her throat, prompting her to clear it and begin detaching from the small girl wrapped around her.

“Hmm, well, you’d best get a little more sleep while you can,” she urged, sparing the back yard a glance to find the morning light creeping through the trees. “Are you staying here or going back to your room? It looks as though the storm has passed. I’m sure Lynx will be fine.”

Lyra shook her head and laid back. “Here.”

“Alright.” She leaned down and pulled the blanket over Lyra before sweeping her hair from her face. “Rest well.”

By the time she was back in her room and shrugging her robe, Oz had already curled around Stel. With a tired sigh, she slipped beneath the covers and pressed close into Asriel, who groaned as she snuggled so close that they were breathing each other’s exhales.

“I heard something about you,” she murmured, drawing a finger down his nose.

Without opening his eyes, he draped an arm over her waist and hummed, “Hmm.”

“I heard you missed me terribly.”

A nearly imperceptible smile touched his lips. “Like her mother, Lyra has a history of being a manipulative liar.”

Grin only growing, she traced his eyes and pushed his hair from his brow. “Fibber as she’d call it.”

“Word mincer as I’d call it,” he returned, eyes finally opening in the dim morning light and catching hers. “The little brat.”

Softly laughing, she pressed a kiss to his nose, cheeks, and finally lips. “I didn’t miss you either. There was no one pulling the covers from me, leaving me to freeze.”

A growl reverberated around the room as he unexpectedly scooped her and rolled her to her back, settling between her thighs with a huff.

“Are you accusing me of something, love?” he scowled, resting his elbows on either side of her shoulders. “I assure you, you don’t want to go down that path lest you’re ready to have a few lobbed back at you.”

“Do tell,” she teased, scratching at his sides. “I’d love to hear a few half truths.”

“You snore.”

“I said half truths, not full out lies,” she bit, eyes narrowing and fingers digging quite a bit deeper.

Rather than flinch, he only chuckled and grasped her hands to secure against the bed. “Lyra as my witness.”

“I believe we’ve established that Lyra would be a pitiful witness.” When she couldn’t slip his grasp, she too huffed. “You’re a brute.”

“You like it, though,” he murmured, closing the distance and kissing her harsh and hard, a few days old stubble irritating her skin, fingers clamping around her wrists and bringing them over her head to be held in one hand.

To save a little face, she struggled against him for a moment or two before relaxing and allowing him his way. She didn’t want it ever said that she just gave into the man’s every whim. She had a reputation to uphold.

And he had his way... with her neck, breasts, and thighs, but never exactly where she wanted him and never long enough in one spot to bring any real satisfaction.

“You’re a complete asshole,” she snapped, when he once again evaded touching her where she needed him most.

He chuckled and lifted his head from her breasts, crystal gaze dancing with a mix of desire and mirth. “And you’re a greedy monkey, one who needs to be taken from her high perch and tamed.”

Eyes blazing at him, she scoffed, but he only grinned and nuzzled at her neck, kissing her as his free hand moved over her body and under her gown, cupping her breast and running his thumb back and forth over her nipple, drawing a gasp when he unexpectedly pinched her.

“Asriel,” she whispered, turning toward him and nipping at his cheek. “Just-“

“Just what?” he murmured, fingers practically cutting off circulation to her hands as she flexed her wrists. “What do you want, love?”

As he said it, he twisted his hips into her, drawing another moan from her as she hooked a leg over him to pull him deeper, desperate for something as old as time.

All resolve melted as she breathlessly replied, “You. I just want you.”

His mouth found hers as he freed himself and pressed into her, finally giving some relief to her ache. When she’d returned earlier in the evening, he’d had his way with her in her study, but it had been quick and impromptu. Now, she wanted the extended version; the one where possession became blurred as they fell into each other so deeply, one might not be able to tell where he ended and she began.

The steady rhythm between them finally eased him enough to slip her hands free, leaving her to roam as she pleased. 

“Marisa-“

“Shh,” she murmured into his kiss, cupping his cheek and drawing him deeper.

A year of having him, freely having him whenever she wanted, hadn’t dampened her need of him in the least. If anything, she wanted him more.

He’d become so much more open, albeit as open as a solitary man like Asriel could be. He grouched and allowed his moods to sway him, but he’d also become gentler around their children, not that he’d ever admit it, or anyone else would believe it by watching him. He would call Lyra a brat as he griped and moaned whenever she became inquisitive about his work, but he explained it anyway; all with a scowl while being careful to show her how it all worked and the whys of everything. His daemon really did fit him; an elusive predator only simmered by his mate and young.

A gasp fell from her lips when his tongue dipped into her ear, “I think you missed me.”

Managing to catch her breath for a moment, she replied, “Certain parts of you more than others.”

Fingers slipped between their hips and he found her center, toying with her. “And what parts are those?”

Writhing beneath him, she gripped at his shoulder and pulled him into another kiss, one she stifled her orgasm into as he brought her over the edge into oblivion.

“Your mouth,” she moaned, coming down from her high as he resumed his steady pace, fucking her slowly, nearly painstakingly so.

“Is that what you want?” he spoke against her lips, barely parting from her long enough to pose the question. “Do you want me to taste you?”

With his suggestion, he brought his fingers to their mouths, her scent hitting her before her taste. Most would call them filthy animals and most would be right, except for the fact that most would never know the pleasure of having a man like Asriel Belacqua possess them.

She mouthed his fingers as he pressed them between her lips, against her teeth, and deeper to be welcomed by her tongue.

Curling her own fingers around his wrist, she pulled him farther in, allowing him to fuck her mouth in time with his hips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned into her cheek, his teeth raking her jawline. “I believe in heaven when I’m inside you.”

She bit his finger at his blasphemy and he pulled his hand back to be replaced by his mouth, suffocating her with how overwhelming he was, dominating every sense she had. However, the vice like squeeze at her hip told of how close to the edge he was.

“Cum for me,” she panted against his lips, drawing her thigh further up his hip, teasing him deeper. “Just for me.”

And he did... with her name on his lips.

After, with his head in the crook of her neck and a hand tangled in her hair, his body became a heavy, sweaty mess, but it was a welcome reprieve from three weeks of loneliness after a year of having him every night. It had been so cold and odd to be without his warm body at her side, without waking to him staring at her or touching her. Only to herself would she admit how dependent she’d become on such things.

Then, he lifted his head and chuckled, “Do you have any idea how long three weeks is?”

“I’m sure you found ways to occupy yourself,” she whispered, taking his hand and threading her fingers through his, delighting in the marred texture of his skin made from years of working with his hands.

“It’s not the same.” His crystal eyes danced over her, stealing her breath and leaving her bare. “Nothing’s the same without you, Marisa.”

Heart picking up a beat, she laid her hand along his jaw, absorbing the sincerity in his gaze. “I love you.”

Everything went still save for their heavy breathing and his erratic blinking. She might have imagined the words came from elsewhere, somewhere foreign, if not for his stunned silence. It was too stark to deny that the dreaded words had been uttered.

They stayed that way for a dozen or so heartbeats, silent and waiting for the other to clarify what had just happened.

“You... what?” he stuttered, lifting up on his elbows and further away from her, presumably to gawk at her from a better angle.

“I-“

She couldn’t say it again, couldn’t conjure the words. To say it was to release power to him, allow him to have some part of her no one had ever possessed and she wasn’t ready to let that go. How it had ever slipped out in the first place was beyond her.

“Nothing,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze and, instead, focusing on the white scar running along his shoulder even as panic began to bubble beneath the surface.

“Marisa-“

“I said nothing,” she snapped, eyes blazing back to his, jaw set in warning.

A few additional beats passed before he nodded, sighing through his nose and rolling away from her.

Eyes squeezing shut, she pressed her tongue into the back of her teeth, biting back the chaos swirling inside her.

Rather than her breathing slowing, she found it picking back up as she tried to focus on a single thing, but failing as her mind raced through everything she was holding deep inside. For two weeks, she’d been barely making it through the day without feeling like an emotional collapse was on the verge of breaking her down, exposing all the raw nerves beneath the facade she upheld. Now that she was home, it was all beginning to cave in around her.

Asriel sat up beside her and threw the covers back, rising and moving across the room where he began jerking open drawers and slamming them shut.

“You’re going to wake the baby,” she scolded, managing to control her voice to keep any wavering out.

“That’s why he has a nanny,” he growled, pulling a shirt over his head and shoving his arms through the sleeves. “But you wouldn’t know much about that.”

“And what does that mean?” she bit, sitting up and throwing the blankets aside, more than ready to shift from uncertainty into anger to meet his own.

When he didn’t answer her, she found fury welling within her. “Asriel.”

“It means, you abandoned him the moment you were well enough to leave him,” he snapped, turning on her and thrusting a finger toward the window. “You abandoned both of them.”

On her feet, she slapped Oz’s hand away as he reached for her.

“How motherly,” he sneered, gesturing to the cowering daemon. “Difficult to give affection when you have none for yourself, Marisa.”

“Fuck you, Asriel.”

“What?” he asked, feigning confusion as he took a step toward her. “Too much truth? Too close to the root? We can’t have the powerful and always in control Marisa Coulter faltering now, can we?”

The use of that name stung deeper than it should have, but when she moved to dispute him, Stel growled behind her, practically daring her. She could feel it like it was her own soul warning her.

“I had to-“

“You had to go watch children be ripped apart?” he cut in mockingly. “The moment after you bring your own into the world? That’s a bit telling, isn’t it, Marisa?”

The screams returned, drawing her breathing to the verge of panic. She could feel it creeping like a serpent around her throat.

Dropping to the end of the bed, she gripped the edge to keep herself steady, breathing through her nose and closing her eyes in an attempt to gain back control of her body.

Guilt pressed at her, burrowing beneath the surface in an attempt to get out.

“I feel like I’m drowning, Asriel,” she confessed, desperate to find relief through him.

“Because you feel things,” he grunted, clearly unmoved by her change in tone.

“Yes,” she whispered, covering her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s exhausting.”

“You think I want to love you, Marisa?” he asked, agitation building in his voice. “I’ve never cared for feelings either. But you... you ripped me apart and shoved yourself inside of me. You watched me fall apart around you and you never once even pretended to do the same.”

”Because I don’t know how to,” she snapped, eyes sweeping to his as the honesty poured from her. “And I don’t want it.” Shaking her head, she held up a helpless hand in an attempt to find the words which had eluded her the entire time she’d known him. “Yes, I feel things, Asriel; things I can’t explain and things I don’t want to know how to explain and it’s your fault. You turned me into this... this weak person who relies on you for everything that matters.”  
  
  


“I didn’t make you do anything, Marisa. You made choices every step of the way.”

“Choices?” she scoffed, gaze everywhere but on him. “There was no choice. Your very existence was enough to crush me into a thousand pieces. The way you look at me, the way you breathe... I drowned in you as surely as though you held my head underwater. My choices ended the day I met you, Asriel.” She laughed, sure she’d lost her sanity. “And now I have these creatures, these extensions of you, that are attempting to tear apart what little resolve I have left. I’m scared all the time that I’m going to hurt them; that Lyra will see who I am and hate me the way I hate myself.”

The silence was consuming, forcing her to finally look at him.The anger behind his gaze had given way to something softer as he took the few steps to take a seat beside her.

  
“And now I’ve completely lost my mind.”

  
“Because you admitted you love me?” he murmured in her hair as he leaned into her, kissing her temple. “There are worse things, my love.”

“I know that,” she softly admitted. “I keep dreaming it’s Lyra in the-“

“It’s not her,” he assured, running a hand down her arm. “She’s safe here.”

Fingers twisting in the sheets, she nodded, knowing that in her head, but nowhere else.

“They scream for their mothers,” she whispered, unable to meet his eyes. “Not their fathers, not people they know... it’s like... a bond that exceeds time and space. Its nearly as strong as the bond to one’s daemon.”

“Sounds extraordinary.”

“It is,” she murmured before turning back to him. “There was a hole in my life without her... Lyra. I didn’t know what it was.” She laughed and pressed a hand over her eyes. “I pretended I didn’t know.”

“She missed you every day.” He chuckled. “The little brat berated me constantly with how much better her mother did everything than me.”

Doubt still clung to her, its hold deep. 

“Besides, I’d love to see someone try to stuff Lyra in a box,” he said, nudging her chin up with a finger. “You can barely stuff her in a dress.”

Finally smiling at him, she relaxed and allowed him to rest his brow to hers.

“Since we’re being truthful, I admittedly may have missed parts of you, too.”

The soft whisper closed her eyes, feeling every ounce of it in her bones. Then, he was kissing her eyes, cheeks, and jaw.

As their breathing grew erratic once more, she laid a hand at the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair and urged him to look at her, soft against his roughness.

She wanted things from him she couldn’t explain; wanted to admit for fear it would eat her alive.

“Asriel,” she whispered, feeling her emotions flickering when he met her eyes. “I-“

A piercing cry halted both of them. Then, a door opened and she heard quick footsteps running down the hallway before a knock racked their door.

“Mama, Lynx is awake.”

Eyes falling closed, she sighed.

“Do you think if we ignore them, they’ll fade from existence?” Asriel murmured into her neck.

Grinning, she pushed at his shoulders until he sat back and she eased out of bed. “I think Lyra would still manage to interrupt us.”

Pulling her robe around herself, she turned to him. “We have a guest visiting, today.”

He sat up on his elbows. “What guest?”

As she tied the belt, she avoided looking directly at him. “Lyra’s headmaster requested a meeting. I can only imagine why. Carlo will also-“

“I don’t want that snake in my house.”

Running a quick hand through her hair, she sighed and started for the door while saying, “Headmaster Archer will be here at noon. Either make yourself presentable or scarce; it’s your preference.”

With that, she opened and shut the door.


	10. Double Trouble

“Ms. Taylor, have you seen Lyra?” she asked, slipping her earring in as she paused in the living room, where the woman was rocking Lynx.

“She was supposed to be reading her book,” the nanny answered, brow furrowed as she stilled. “I saw her in her room half an hour ago.”

Irritation swept over her, though she couldn’t be sure if it was more for her absent child or the woman before her. Flexing her jaw, she snapped, “Your job is to keep up with my daughter. Find her and bring her to me or be prepared to find a new position.”

It was a bit harsh, she knew, as she watched the young girl scurry to set the baby down and practically dash from the room, green eyes awash in panic, but now was not the time for Lyra to be pulling a disappearing act.

Checking her watch again, she took note that she had about ten minutes at the most before Headmaster Archer would arrive and the last thing she needed was Lyra running through the house covered in mud as she had the last time visitors had been present. A few scholars would overlook it... the headmaster would not. Add to that the fact that Lyra hadn’t been forthcoming with why she was receiving a home visit and she was more impatient than usual.

_ “Lyra,” she broached, meeting her daughter’s eyes in the vanity mirror after having listened to her ramble on for a few minutes. “Headmaster Archer will be arriving at noon to discuss your behavior at school. Can you tell me why?” _

_ Lyra’s words died for the first time all morning as she simply blinked at her, wide eyed and full of surprise, before dropping to the jewelry littering the tabletop as her brow knit together, the worry lines speaking more than her daughter ever could. _

_ Chewing the inside of her cheek, she considered the sudden silence an admission of guilt and brought the brush through Lyra’s hair again before continuing as softly as she could without casting too much accusation.  _

_ “What did you do?” _

_ “Why do you assume I did something?” _

_ Evasiveness wasn’t a trait she appreciated her daughter having inherited.Setting the brush down, she began gathering Lyra’s hair to pull back with a band, taking her time to not tug too sharply. “Because you’re the one receiving the visit on a Saturday.” _

_ “It’s not my fault you were gone. If you’d been here, he’d have done it on a school day.” _

_ The vile bite in Lyra’s voice snapped the one nerve she’d reserved for the girl. Fingers clamping around the band, she jerked her head back, forcing her dark eyes to meet blue in the mirror. _

_ “Do not speak to me in that tone,” she warned. “Now, tell me why he’s coming here.” _

_ When Lyra only stared at her, stubborn resolve shooting her right between the eyes, she felt herself fall through time to a place where her role was reversed and there was a hand in her hair. _

_Her hold fell from her daughter as she softly asked, “Lyra, how am I to help you if you won’t tell me what’s going on? Something has clearly happened and you seem to be at the center of it.”_

_ “I can’t,” Lyra whispered, fingering a piece of jewelry while Pan shifted from sparrow to ermine and ran up her arm to nuzzle at her neck. “I just can’t.” _

_ The sudden shift from defensiveness to near tears softened her as she brought a hand to brush Lyra’s cheek. In the whole time Lyra had lived with her, tears has not been a common occurrence.  _

_ “Why not?” she wondered, observing the way her daughter’s chest stuttered with her breathing. “You can tell me anything, Lyra.” _

_ “Mama, please,” Lyra pleaded, eyes glistening as she spun to wrap her arms around her waist. “Don’t make me go back there.” _

Oz looked out the windows, agitation clear as he picked at the sill. When he gave no sign of seeing Lyra, she released a heavy breath and made her way over to the sofa.

Asriel had thankfully made himself scarce, as she knew he would, and that left Lynx, whom was quietly lying in his bassinet. Unlike Lyra, he was so calm and relaxed, content to just be.

She couldn’t help but smile as she leaned forward to run her fingers over his thin, dark hair, still mesmerized by the fact that such a tiny creature could possess her so deeply. At times, she felt like she was choking on the absurdity of being this enraptured by another being.

“Why can’t your sister be more like you?” His blue eyes stared up at her and she wondered not for the first time if they’d stick. “I can’t begin to imagine where you inherited such contentedness from.”

There hadn’t been the opportunity to just watch Lyra sleep after she’d been born. There hadn’t been opportunity for anything with Lyra. She’d held her once before she was swept away, but Lynx... she could barely keep her eyes off him. The night he was born, she’d barely let Asriel hold him; the fear that he would disappear consuming her and depriving her of all rational thought.

_ “Marisa, he’s fine,” Asriel murmured into her hair, kissing the crown of her head. “You need rest.” _

_ “I will,” she assured, running her finger along her son’s cheek. “He’s so soft. Was Lyra this soft? I can’t remember.” _

_ “I’m sure all babies are soft.” Asriel’s knuckle trailed behind hers. “He looks like you.” _

_ “Finally,” she laughed, noting his fair skin and lips so like hers. “He couldn’t have done us the kindness of being born first.” _

_ “Well, you know there’s no winning with Lyra. Surely, he’ll be calmer than her.” _

_ “One can only hope.” _

The doorbell caught her off guard, so lost in thought that the time had slipped her mind. Quickly standing, she smoothed a hand down her dress and stepped around the bassinet.

She could hear Thorold making greetings as he brought Archer into the room. The headmaster was a middle aged, dingy looking man who enjoyed wearing brown suits a size too large; his dark, beady eyes a perfect reflection of the black squirrel on his shoulder. Honestly, she wasn’t sure how the man kept up his status as headmaster other than being easily cowered and manipulated. It really wasn’t a wonder his wife strayed quite so often as she did.

Stepping forward, she smiled and extended her hand, “Headmaster Archer.”

“Lady Belacqua,” Archer nodded, his tall stature allowing him to tower over her. “I’m glad you could meet with me, today.”

“Of course.” Observing the man’s eyes slithering over her son, she held her hand to the side. “This way to the study.”

As they turned to where she’d gestured, she nodded for Thorold to watch Lynx.

While Archer took a seat in front of her desk, she took up stance leaning against it as Oz leaped to the window, always searching for her elusive daughter who was nearly as slippery as her father when it came to needing to be found.

“I wasn’t expecting a meeting so soon into the school year, much less a home visit,” she began, pleasant smile dancing on her lips as she looked down at the man. “I only returned last evening and saw your request.”

“Yes.” Archer shifted, his unease evident. “While Lyra is a very bright girl, I’m afraid we’ve found she’s quite the penchant for lying-“

“Oh, well, I’d say she’s quite imaginative,” she interjected with a brighter smile, taking insult at the man’s blatantness. “She’s not had much experience with other children.”

Archer lifted a brow like he was keenly aware of her bullshit, but had the sense not to say it. “So you’ve mentioned before, but it goes quite beyond imagination, which of course we appreciate at St. Catherine’s, and more into all out lying to avoid consequence.”

“Such as?” she asked, nails biting into the desk behind her.

“The girl-“

“Lyra,” she interjected, not having the slight pass her by.

Archer sighed and held out his hands, skeletal like fingers flexing as though to grab something. “ Lyra has become somewhat of a bully on campus.”

“A bully?” she repeated with a light laugh. “Forgive me, Headmaster, but I find that very difficult to believe.”

While Lyra hadn’t been forthcoming with what had happened, she’d gotten the distinct impression her daughter was the one to which something had happened.

“Yesterday afternoon, she shoved another young lady, one quite a bit older than her, into the fountain before proceeding to hold her head underwater. It took two teachers to stop her. And I must say, if it wasn’t for her name, the girl would have been expelled immediately which is why I requested this meeting. This young lady’s parents are quite upset and demanding Lyra’s immediate expulsion.” 

“Hmm,” she murmured, eyes on the far wall over the man’s head to keep her thoughts from his gaze. That actually did sound like something Lyra would do, but not without provocation. “And what exactly did this  young _lady_ do to my daughter?”

The stark difference in vocabulary used between referring to her daughter and the other student was not lost on her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Lyra was coming in at the bottom of the societal pond.

“She and the other students present said Lyra was unprovoked and Lyra didn’t dispute their claim.” Archer shrugged his shoulders. “My hands are quite tied in this matter.”

There was a long pause where she simply stared at the man, gauging his racing chest and the way his eyes would meet hers then fall elsewhere only to return as if to check if she was still looking at him. She observed as his discomfort grew and his long digits enclosed one another in his lap.

Finally smiling at him, she spoke, “Headmaster, I’m sure there’s a way to work through this without expulsion. I’m sure you recall that Lord Asriel’s mother and grandmother attended St. Catherine’s and he’d be greatly disappointed should his daughter be excluded.”

“I understand that-“

“And it would be such a shame,” she cut in, eyes full to the brim with pleasantness. “For a prestigious institution like yours to fall under scrutiny for expelling a young lady on her first offense who’s already been cast aside for so long. I imagine the papers would have a field day with it.”

“The papers?” he stammered, sitting forward. “Lady Belacqua, this entire situation was avoidable. That girl has little control-“

“That _girl_,” she bit, leaning forward to hover in his face, her hands settling on the arms of his chair. “Is due the same respect and protection you’d give to any of the other spoiled, insignificant, little worms you allow into that school.”

The man squirmed back in his seat, his daemon cowering on the floor under the chair.

“Let us not pretend this has anything to do with propriety and just skip straight to the part where you tell me what you really want.”

Men like Archer always wanted something; something to gain the upper hand in situations where they often felt helpless. His work, his _authority_, as he’d likely call it, was the only area of his life he had any control. With a wife who flitted between lovers and not much in the form of social skills to help him, he took pleasure in the one area he could.

And there was little she understood more than wanting control.

The man sat as straight as he could with her still in his space. “I’m willing to work on an arrangement due to the Belacqua family history at the school,” he hastily replied. “However, if the behavior continues, I will have no choice but to dispense the most severe of consequences.”

A knock sounded at the door before it opened to reveal Ms. Taylor with Lyra in hand, her hair a sweaty mess and her face red with dirt sprinkled along her right cheek. Nails biting into her palms, she smiled very briefly at her daughter before resuming an upright stance.

“Lyra,” she called, pointing to the chair beside the headmaster. “Have a seat.”

Lyra’s eyes took in the sight, darting from the man to her, before finding the floor as she dragged her feet to the chair where she sat, fingers gripping the arm rests.

“The headmaster and I were discussing what happened at school. Care to add to it?”

Lyra swallowed and shook her head, her own short nails biting at the material beneath her fingers as Pan laid along the back of her neck.

“Speak up,  girl,” Archer scolded, eyes zeroed in on Lyra. “You have a mouth and surely a few words in your head. Use them.”

“Thank you, headmaster,” she drawled slowly, burning the man with a hard look before catching her daughter’s panicked eyes. “Darling, if something happened that you’re not saying, now is the time.”

Lyra opened her mouth to speak, but the words died somewhere in her throat as her chest began heaving.

“I assured the young lady’s parents that Lyra would apologize,” Archer added, his voice having regained some strength. “That will be the requirement for her to return to school.”

“I’m not apologizing to that spoiled brat,” Lyra spat, suddenly finding her words as her head whipped to the man with a look that put her own previous one to shame.

“The insolence of this girl is-“

“Headmaster, thank you for your input,” she cut in dismissively, standing to her full height to tower over the purple faced man. “I assure you, Lyra’s father and I will take care of everything. You needn’t put any further undue strain on yourself.” She smiled tight and walked to the door, turning as she opened it very pointedly. “Thorold will see you out.”

The man practically huffed before standing and making his way to the door. However, before he exited, she added in a tone dripping with false cheer, “And Nathaniel, do tell your wife to tell Mr. Hayes hello for me. I hear they’re quite good friends.”

The man’s eyes bulged for only a second before he sneered and disappeared through the door, which she shut behind him.

Gaze on the back of her daughter’s head, she took a deep, steadying breath and walked back to her place against her desk.

“Lyra,” she began with an attempt at softness. “I expect an explanation. Did you do the things he said?”

When Lyra only shrugged, a ripple of anger coursed through her veins setting everything in its path ablaze.

“Look at me,” she snapped, finally gaining Lyra’s dark eyes. “You have expectations just like your father and I. I will not tolerate you making a mockery of us. I’ve worked too hard to have it all crumbled by an unruly, nine year old girl.”

The flinch was expected; the set jaw was not. “I don’t care about that stupid school. I hate it there.”

“Hate it or not, I expect more of you,” she returned with equal force. “Your behavior reflects on our family and embarrassments like this-“

Chest rising and falling quickly, Lyra shoved herself to her feet while Pan leaped to the floor shifting from ermine to badger, his teeth bared. “What do you even care? You didn’t even want me. It’s not my fault I don’t know any better. At least, Madame Delamare didn’t throw me away and make me go somewhere I hated.”

Taken aback by the sudden rage, her mind reeled for something to say. “Lyra-“

“You don’t even love me,” Lyra cried, stomping her foot. “I was a mistake and you just keep me here so everyone will think you’re a good person.”

“Lyra,” she whispered, finding her voice as she reached out for her daughter. “That’s absurd. You’re _not_ a mistake.”

Fists clenched, Lyra evaded her touch by sidestepping and ducking to the other side of the chair to place it between them. “No, you’re a liar and I’m not going back to that school.”

Standing straight, she took her own step back and considered her daughter in a new light. They’d not had many disagreements other than Lyra’s incessant need to sneak off and make mischief and none of those disagreements had ever seen her daughter this angry. “Lyra, what happened? Did she say that? That you were a mistake?”

Lyra sucked in a shaky breath as she crossed her arms and looked over to the window. “She said I didn’t belong there cause I was a bastard.”

Face going slack, she gripped the edge of the desk and sank back to steady herself.

“And she said...” Lyra trailed off, eyes making the journey back to hers before falling and returning to avoiding hers altogether.

“What else did she say?” she asked, though she wasn’t sure she actually wanted the answers anymore.

“She said you would have been happier if your husband had just killed me; that you never wanted me because I ruined your life.”

Breath coming short, she nodded and decided the window was indeed the better place to look while wishing Asriel hadn’t made himself quite so scarce. She knew this would happen, knew the world they lived in wouldn’t permit Lyra to skate by without experiencing the full brunt of the scandal, but she’d thought it would be later, when she was a little older. She’d thought she would have time to prepare her for it.

“What’s her name?” she softly inquired, gaze back on Lyra.

“Sally Manford,” Lyra replied, rolling her eyes. “She thinks she’s better than everyone else because her father works with politicians.”

Oh, she knew Brant and Charlotte Manford well. They had been close friends with Edward and had been frequent flyers at their apartment. In fact, she’d been one of the first people to lay eyes on Sally after her birth, which had been two years prior to Lyra’s.

“I won’t apologize to her,” Lyra added, arms crossing defiantly. “And I’ll dunk her again if you make me go back there.”

Allowing a gentle nod, she looked to her feet for a moment, considering her options, before meeting Lyra’s eyes again.

“Lyra,” she began, taking in Lyra’s stiff jaw and hard gaze. “You will return to school-“

“You can’t make me,” Lyra cut in.

Jaw shifting dangerously at the outright rebuke, she gave a tight smile. “I am your mother and you will not test me, Lyra. Any confrontation between us will end with your loss and nothing but misery for either of us.”

“I’ll run away,” Lyra shot back, resolve not lessened in the least. “I don’t care what you say.”

The lack of hesitation on her daughter’s part touched her nerves because she knew there wasn’t an ounce of falsity in them.

“And where will you go?” she asked, voice rising over Lyra’s. “I will personally handle the Manford’s and I assure you that you will have no further problems with this girl, but you  _will_ return to school. Do you understand?”

When Lyra only glared at her, she felt herself linger on the verge of a snap only to be halted by a knock at the door.

“Lord Boreal is here for you,” Thorold said, through the door. “Should I show him in?”

With a heavy sigh, she looked back to Lyra and considered the defiance practically dripping off her. They weren’t going to get anywhere now, anyway. “We will finish this discussion later. I believe you were supposed to be reading. Go clean up and do that.”

Pushing away from the desk, she ran a hand through her hair and down her dress to smooth it out before placing her hand on the knob. However, before opening it, she turned back to Lyra who hadn’t moved and was watching her, brow knit in confusion.

The urge to say something to alleviate the tension between them burned in her chest. She knew she needed to make clarifications, clarifications she could see her daughter waiting for, but she found the words stuck in her throat.

When she said nothing, Lyra stomped toward the door and huffed at her when she neglected to open it for her. “Do you have another order for me, mother?”

For a moment, she just stared at Lyra, considering the stubborn girl who looked about ready to hold her own head underwater, too. There was a part of her that told her it was only pain causing Lyra’s outbursts and that, as her mother, she should be jumping hurdles to alleviate it. She just... didn’t know how.

“I only want what’s best for you, Lyra.”

“No,” Lyra refuted, shoulders squared. “You want what’s best for you. That’s all you care about.”

Pursing her lips, she took the jab with more intensity than she’d like and gripped the knob. “Lyra-“

“You only care about your stupid project and how everybody looks at you. It was better when I didn’t even know who you were. At least, I could imagine I had a mother who cared.”

Once again finding herself bereft of a response, she flinched when Lyra reached out and jerked the door open before storming past both Thorold and Boreal.

For a moment, she just stood there, watching her daughter stomp through the living room while repressing the urge to call after her.

But it only lasted a moment.

Then, she took a deep breath and attempted to push all thoughts of Lyra from her mind, forcing a smile as she held out her hand and business settled over her thoughts. “Lord Boreal.”

The man’s eyes slithered to her from the retreating form of her daughter and he nodded as he moved past her into the room.

She, then, looked to Thorold, remembering Lyra’s threat. “Lyra isn’t to leave this house.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How was your trip?” Boreal asked, pouring himself a glass of Tokay as she closed the door. “I hear you’ve made some advancements.”

“It went well,” she answered, moving to take a seat at her desk, the remnants of her argument with Lyra sapping her energy and leaving her thoughts muddled. “Everything’s progressing according to plan.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, taking a seat across from her and hooking his ankle over his knee. “I imagine they’ll want you to return to oversee it soon.”

“I have a newborn son,” she replied, taking note of the flinch in his expression. “I won’t just leave again.”

  
“And the motto, ‘We all must make sacrifices’ will undoubtedly fall from their lips,” Boreal answered, brow lifted.

“I believe I’ve already made that particular sacrifice,” she replied, jaw tight.

  
Lynx’s existence had rippled across her social circles in a variety of ways. Most came to the conclusion she’d been pregnant when marrying Asriel, but wouldn’t dare say it. The papers printed exactly as she’d wanted, though, delight plastered on every page about the happy couple starting over after having lived through so much tragedy.

Her family, on the other hand, had not been overjoyed. Mother had huffed while Marcel had fumed.

_ “Marisa,” her mother began, a little too tentatively for her liking. “I thought you wanted to overcome your last indiscretion, not repeat it.” _

_ “No, mother,” she replied tiredly. “You wanted that. Though, I could be recalling it incorrectly as I was drugged at the time the decision was made.” _

_ Her mother recoiled with a huff before adding, “Another illegitimate child will do you no favors.” _

_ “Oh, but this baby will not be illegitimate,” Marcel answered for her, breaking his uncharacteristic silence as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “She made assurances of that.” _

_ “It’s distasteful and beneath you,” her mother added, sipping her wine. “But I suppose I should have expected it since he’s apparently irrevocably ruined you.” _

_ “Oh, I couldn’t possibly take all of the credit,” Asriel commented as he reclined in his chair, a lazy smile on his face. “You’ve done an exemplary job of allowing me to finish what you started, Madame.” _

_ “You are a vulgar man,” her mother said, bitterness lacing her tone.  _

_Marcel, gaze full of poison, looked between she and Asriel. “Have you really sunk this low again, Marisa? You’re too conniving for this to happen a second time.” _

_ Asriel chuckled as he lifted his glass of wine to his lips. “I believe she’s rising up rather than sinking with my blood inside her, but, then again, you wouldn’t know much about rising with all your pencil pushing, would you, Marcel?” _

_ “What’s pencil pushing?” Lyra asked, twisting some noodles onto her fork as Marcel’s expression darkened. _

_ “Lyra,” she murmured, rubbing her temple. “Excuse yourself.” _

_ “But, mama-“ _

_ “Now.” _

_ Lyra’s resistance only faltered when she looked to Asriel, who nodded toward the door. She’d already learned to play them off each other and she was grateful Asriel actually followed her lead this time rather than carrying on for his own amusement. _

_ When Lyra was out of the room, she turned back to her brother. “What exactly is your problem? Every time I see you, you’re minding my business and I’ve had it with your pissing match.” _

_ “My problem is your constant embarrassment of this family.” _

_ “This family only has the rank to be embarrassed because I made it so. No one even knew who you were before I married Edward and you would still be that same level of nothing without me.” _

_ “You weren’t even supposed to marry him, Marisa,” Marcel growled, throwing up his hands. “He was my _ _ friend and you knew I was about to have a breakthrough so you forced your way into that, too, because you couldn’t stand the fact that I was the one shining at that moment.” _

_ “Shining?” she laughed, staring at her brother wide eyed. “I did you a favor. Edward was never going to bring you into the fold without the right push.” _

_ “Without the right fuck, you mean?” Marcel mockingly returned. “You like to sit there and pretend you’re some powerhouse, Marisa, but, let’s be honest, everything you have is because you chose the right people to fuck.” _

_ “Marcel,” Asriel spoke, tone low as he twirled his glass, clearly bored with the entire exchange. “If you don’t cease with you’re petty sniping at my wife, I’m going to cease it for you.” _

_ “The same way you ceased Edward’s?” Marcel taunted. _

_ Asriel met him with a cold look. “Edward was a bothersome, but tolerable, little fly.” He leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. “You’re an insignificant, fucking gnat. You’d barely be worth the effort, but speak to her that way again and I’ll find some way to rise to the occasion.” _

_ There was a pause where Marcel’s mouth flapped for a moment and she felt an overwhelming amount of pleasure at the sight. _

_”You’re going to sit there and let him threaten me that way?” Marcel demanded at her. _

_ “What can I say?” she shrugged, rubbing her hand down Asriel’s back. “He’s irrevocably ruined me.” _

_ Marcel sat back, eyes wild. “You’d choose him over your own blood?” _

_ “And what has my blood ever done for me?” _

_ “We provided you every opportunity,” her mother replied spitefully. “And those opportunities set you for life, Marisa, and then you threw it all away when this blasphemous man came along.” _

_ “Well, perhaps, if my mother had ever allowed me to make _ one fucking _ decision for myself without being slapped in the face, I wouldn’t have.” _

_“Of course, Marisa, it’s always my fault when you fail,” her mother scoffed. “I suppose when Lyra is sitting where you are, saying the exact same thing, that will be my fault as well.”_

_The beat of her heart felt like a stampede under her skin. It stirred so violently that she was sure she was on the verge of passing out. Then, Asriel’s hand clasped hers and she realized she wasn’t breathing._

_After a moment, she responded, “Well, you did keep her from me for eight years.”_

_“You didn’t want her, Marisa. Stop trying to rewrite history to victimize yourself.”_

_“I wanted her more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” she snapped. “But you kept me drugged half out of my mind for weeks after Edward’s death. Every time I asked after her, you gave me a heavier dose and told me she was better off without me; that I would taint her with my sin.”_

_“I did what was best for you,” her mother exclaimed. “You were delusional, Marisa; talking nonsense about that man loving you.”_

_“He does love me,” she replied, tone sharp and cutting. “And you can’t stand that. You can’t stand that someone has managed to love what you’ve always considered unlovable.”_

  
_“Maybe because you’re a vindictive, emotionless bitch,” Marcel scoffed._

_The next thing she knew, Asriel was out of his chair with Marcel pinned to the floor._

_”Asriel,” she called in surprise, standing and circling the table as her mother stared in shock at the scene. “Asriel, stop.”_

_However, he ignored her and it was only when she heard a sick snap from her brother’s daemon caught between Stel’s jaws that he sat back on his heels and shook out his fist while still sitting over Marcel who was bleeding profusely beneath him.  
  
_

_”I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut,” he said, pushing himself up to his feet and staggering back as Marcel groaned and clutched at his arm. “I hope you know how to push your little pencil with one arm.”_

_Asriel, then, reached across the table and lifted his glass before tilting it at her mother with a grin. “Lovely dinner. We’ll have to do it again soon.”_

  
Since that night, she’d not made a move to see either her mother or brother, a true feat considering her family home was a ten minute drive from her new one. It hadn’t bothered Asriel much, though, as he’d been properly rewarded in their bed that night.

  
“Besides, I was under the impression keeping Asriel under my thumb was the larger prize.”

  
“Yes,” he agreed, pulling a large manilla envelope from his jacket and dropping it on her desk. “However, it seems you’ve failed at keeping the man occupied.”

Tentatively lifting the envelope, she spilled the contents. Pictures. The first was Asriel outside a building, lurking in the shadows. The next, a woman in the doorway, backlit from inside.

Heart hammering, she felt she knew where the rest lead before she finished flipping them, but she continued on anyway even as Oz worried his claws around her ankles.

“He’s visited that house three times in the early morning hours since you’ve been gone,” Boreal added. “The visits last half an hour to a hour and then he returns home.”

As she scanned the seven or so images, she managed to keep her face under control. Then, she looked up at him to find him scrutinizing her.

“Am I meant to be shocked?” she asked, brow knit. “You know as well as I this marriage isn’t the traditional sort. I also believe we’re both painfully aware that he’s been known to commit affairs.”

Boreal seemed impassive as he sipped his drink.

“Sending me north again will leave Asriel to drift further away from my control.” She smiled. “Send my regards and regrets to the Cardinal, but inform him that I will be keeping my husband occupied for the foreseeable future.”

“I told you, Marisa,” he said, folding his hands around his glass. “This was not the best plan. Asriel isn’t the family man type. He enjoys the chase, but grows bored and abandons his prey after its been caught.”

Remaining calm enough to reply, she responded, “I believe you know the way out.”

He only smiled and stood, straightening his suit. “You let me know when you’re finally willing to admit you’re in over your head.”

Oz bore the brunt of her restraint as she watched the man walk toward the door.

Before he exited the study, he turned and added, “I should also inform you that she’s married.” He chuckled as he backed away. “I suppose Asriel has a type.”

After the door shut, she leaned against her desk, eyes on the pictures littering it.

It had been her fear that she’d be the one to stray, not because she’d want to, but because she’d have to for some larger purpose. Asriel, though... it had never even factored into her mind.

Despite their arguments, she knew he was hers alone and all the threats and charisma in the world wouldn’t cause him to stray from her. It was an odd connection, one she could rely on through thick and thin.

Dropping her head to her hands, she sucked in a shaky breath and fought back the chaos threatening to overtake her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so long and I kept adding to it and editing it so much that I eventually decided to split it. The other part is written, but I just want to play with it some more. Hopefully, I’ll have it up in a day or two.


	11. Do you feel guilty?

_ “Mr. and Mrs. Coulter, we’re so glad you could attend. ” _

_Edward made the greetings while she smiled, being sure to keep the right level of balance between being too quiet and too intelligent. Edward didn’t like it when she showed him up as he’d warned on the way here with a light but suggestive hand on her thigh._

_As they took to circling the room, her eyes wandered, boredom sinking in as she searched for someone, anyone, with whom she could hold a semi intelligent conversation. A month of playing the dutiful wife day and night with no breaks had left her bereft of a few nerves._

_However, as though the heavens were out to punish her, she found herself stuck with Charlotte Manford as Brant and Edward talked shop across the room, splitting the men of intelligence from their arm ornaments._

_“Did you hear the latest?”_

_Sipping her champagne, she considered the rest of the room while half listening to the woman with mild annoyance. Charlotte was always enthralled with the latest gossip, often forgetting whom she’d already told what to, leaving individuals to hear the details on repeat as though the parrot on her shoulder had forever altered her memory. Normally, she humored her as occasionally the right piece of gossip held enough truth to use for her benefit._

_“Hmm?”_

_“Apparently, Bonnie Thomas has found herself entangled with that mysterious Lord from Oxford.”_

_“Intriguing,” she murmured, biting back a roll of her eyes as the heiress was well known for her scandals. “I’m sure her father will be pleased she’s moved beyond actors.”_

_“I wouldn’t be too sure her father will be pleased. The man isn’t exactly tactful with the way he likes to push the Magisterium’s buttons.”_

_“What?” she asked, finally wheeling to the red head as a dangerous thought prickled her nerves. “Which Lord are you referring to exactly?”_

_“Asriel, of course.”_

_ “Belacqua?” _

_ When her own incredulous tone reached her ears, she realized she’d said it a tad more breathlessly than she should have. Then, she felt the clutch of her daemon around her ankle, his claw biting along her heel. _

_ Charlotte giggled, thankfully too absorbed in her tale to notice the momentary slip. “Of course, how many Lord Asriel’s do you know?” _

_ Pulling a tight smile, she mused, “Well, that is... interesting.” _

_ “Yes,” Charlotte went on, needing little push as always. “Apparently, they attended the new exhibit at the Arctic Institute last evening and spent the whole event wrapped up in each other.” _

_ A fire lit in her belly as she stared at a painting on the wall while she attempted to manage her breathing. “From what I hear, Lord Asriel’s never in one place long enough to properly entangle with anyone.” _

_ “Perhaps, just long enough...” Charlotte grinned and titled her head in close. “I’ve heard he’s quite worth it. All those expeditions, climbing around on mountains and in caverns. Can you imagine the stamina?” _

_ “The man’s an arrogant brute and philanderer,” she scoffed, taking another generous sip as she forced herself to appear unfazed by the news. “Hardly worth anyone’s time.” _

_ “Well, it seems he’s worth Bonnie’s,” she said, nodding her head toward the entrance. _

_ Following her gaze, she found what Charlotte meant. Asriel, arm looped through Bonnie Thomas’, laughing at whatever the half witted blonde was saying as they casually glided through the room. If she was seething before, she was now blazing. _

_ To make the matter of the brewing storm within her altogether more volatile, she took note that he was wearing the tie he’d deemed his favorite the last time they’d gotten a bit too tipsy and she’d managed to get him tied to his bedposts. It was a clear strike at her and there was no amount of willpower that would keep her from clawing his eyes out at the first available opportunity. _

_ “They make an exquisite couple,” Charlotte commented, tone reflecting her awe as though she were laying eyes on the king and queen, themselves. “Though, as you said, Lord Asriel doesn’t seem fond of attachments. Brant says when they were in school together, Asriel burned through women faster than a forest fire during a drought.” _

_ “Hmm,” she murmured, draining what was left of her champagne as she gave a subtle shove to her daemon to detach him from herself. “Well, it appears his tastes aren’t worth much.” _

_ Bonnie Thomas was hardly interesting; an heiress with too much money and not enough brains. Her father was the head of a mining company and mother a chronic alcoholic whom no one felt comfortable taking about in polite company. There was no other explanation for the pair than Asriel being petty... at least, none she was willing to dwell on as she took in the sleek, agile build of Bonnie’s daemon, a golden greyhound, which hovered over Stel by half a foot as she strode alongside her. _

_ “She’s an heiress,” Charlotte protested, paving the way for her own lack of brains to be put on display. _

_ “She’s indecent,” she replied, eyes flickering over the woman’s deep red dress, the generous dip in her neckline too dangerously cut to be used for anything other than drawing the eye. “Hardly appropriate for an upscale function.” _

_ “Oh, please, Marisa,” Charlotte laughed. “I’ve seen you wear far less.” _

_ It took several minutes of her pretending not to stare for her to notice that while Asriel hadn’t looked at her, off to the side, Stel was boring a hole into her, eyes piercing with that predatory stare. It was at that very moment of realization that Asriel finally met her gaze with the most devilish grin she was sure he could manage. When he did, the knowledge that he’d been baiting her sliced through her like a hot blade, filling her with a singular rage as she snapped her jaw shut and diverted her gaze elsewhere, resolving to not look at him for the rest of the night; a real feat considering her annoyance was warring against the starved yearning she’d been keeping bay for too long. _

_ A month had passed since she’d last seen him as she and Edward had been out of the country on what Edward had deemed a necessary tour to ready him for his next campaign. The entire ordeal had been planned for weeks, but she’d held off telling her temper-mental lover until the last minute and she’d been right to do so as, then and there, he’d devolved into another of his rants about her lack of acknowledgement about his perceived feelings. To be known as such a force of solitary savagery who could work a room of London’s best and brightest into a frenzied stupor, he was a fucking kitten when it came to his feelings concerning her. _

_ “Oh, Lord Asriel,” Charlotte greeted in a very sing song tone, causing her to hold back a groan as she turned to the child of a man and his... heiress. _

_ “Mrs. Manford,” he said, taking Charlotte’s hand and kissing the back of it. “You know Bonnie?” _

_ “I believe we’ve met once,” Charlotte replied, smile nearly about to split her face. “At one one of your father’s events.” _

_ Bonnie and Charlotte went back and forth, but they faded to background noise as Asriel blatantly stared at her, his eyes unbearably penetrating her, only growing more pointed when she sucked in a sharp breath as Stel’s tail brushed the back of her leg. He used that moment to reach for her empty glass, the brush of his fingers adding to the quickening of her pulse, blood rushing like drums in her ears. _

_ “And this is Edward Coulter’s wife,” Asriel went on, gesturing to her as he set her glass on a passing tray while she felt a stab of grief at the way he’d introduced her, diminishing her to dutiful wife rather than her own person. “She’s been a valuable asset to his campaign, I hear.” _

_ “Oh, yes,” Bonnie exclaimed, her voice brightening as she shifted to face her, eyes lighting in recognition. “Asriel says your husband is running for office, again.” _

_ Her daemon managed to tangle around her ankle again and she could feel the tension coiling his body as he stared at Stel, who’d slinked back to her place at Asriel’s side where he rested a hand to her head, his fingers gently stroking her ears. _

_ “He is,” she replied, drawing her neatest smile forward as she added rather whimsically, “He loves being a voice for the people.” _

_ “My father is a die hard fan,” Bonnie continued. “You’ll have to attend our next party.” Then, as though a thought had floated into her head, she practically twirled to Asriel, hands bracing against his chest. “Oh, we should invite them to the theatre tomorrow evening for the new play. We have the extra seats.” _

_ She’d rather be locked in a room having tea with her mother. _

_ Asriel grinned, a malicious glint in his eyes as they danced over her in amusement. “Of course, you wouldn’t want to miss it. It’s a tale of deceit and betrayal betwixt lovers.” _

_ The way the words rolled off his tongue made her want to bite it right off. _

_ “I’m acquainted with the lead actor,” Bonnie added, her voice scratching the last nerve she had. “He says it’s a boundary pushing play meant to evoke discord. Oh, please, say you’ll join us.” _

_ Desperately needing something to strangle between her fingers, she forced a wistful sort of smile to her face. _

_ “Of course, Edward’s always looking to make new connections, but I’m afraid we have a full schedule.” She turned as if to look for her husband. “I’m sorry, if you’ll excuse me, I should probably find him.” _

_ Barely glancing at Asriel, she turned and made her way through the crowd, never breaking stride as she caught another glass of champagne off a tray on her way out of the room. _

_ By the time she’d escaped everyone and was out on the balcony, she’d drained half of it, wishing it had a swifter kick, as her daemon carefully skirted around her feet. It was likely for the best, since all she really wanted to do was dig her nails into his fur and force him to submit. _

_ Eyes falling closed, she gripped the railing and leaned forward, feeling an unsettling churning in her gut. She didn’t understand why he had to be so obnoxious; always trying to crawl under her skin and capture reactions from her. It was a twisted little game he liked playing to punish her for not up and throwing her life away at his behest. He didn’t understand how hard she’d fought to get where she was; how hard she was fighting to go even further. _

_ Then, he had to go and start uttering words like ‘love’ and ‘run away with me’ like it was even a remote possibility that she’d do it. All the time they’d spent skirting each other and sneaking around wasn’t going to see her throw her life away no matter how good it felt to be with him; how alive he made her feel when everything else has always been so fleeting and mechanical. _

_ The barest brush of fur at her leg brought a brisk hand down to snatch at her daemon only to reveal it wasn’t him, but Stel in her grasp, evoking a low growl from the leopard which caused her to release her immediately and stumble back. _

_ An unstable breath hissed through her teeth as she turned just in time to be spun and shoved into the wall, just out of the lights from inside the building. _

_ Hands bracing to break her crash against the bricks, she caught her breath and whispered, “Don’t be an idiot, my husband is right there.” _

_ “Don’t fret, love,” he snarled, the potency of the Tokay on his breath washing her cheek as he swayed against her, securing his hold with his hips trapping her between him and the wall. “I’ve had you closer to him than this.” _

_ “Asriel,” she warned, catching his hand as it swiftly swept under her dress and along her thigh, nails biting into his palm as she bent it back. “Shouldn’t you be tending to your date? She seems quite charmed by the blazing pile of bullshit you’ve been feeding her.” _

_ The mockery in his laughter stoked the fire he’d had simmering in her belly since he’d arrived. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.” _

_ “Jealousy?” she echoed arrogantly, tangling her free hand in his longer than usual hair she refused to admit she loved and snapping his head back. “What’s there to be jealous of, Asriel? Her brain?” _

_ She hadn’t thought he could be any more smug. She was wrong. _

_ “Well, that and legs that go on for miles and miles.” His eyes flickered to their daemons, hers pinned to the ground under Stel’s paw as she laid over him, nuzzling at his neck. “Though, her daemon isn’t quite as compliant as yours.” _

_ With a hiss, she slapped him, making sure to drag her nails in her wake, only to be met with a flash of teeth as he snatched her hand and slammed it above her head as the other remained trapped between them, still captured with his against her thigh. _

_ “You have some gall, Marisa,” he taunted, tilting his head as his eyes lingered south of her face. “You’ve spent the last month fucking him while you expect me to what? Sit around and pine for you?” _

_ “Well, I heard you made up for my absence.” _

_ “Because taking a woman to an exhibit or the theatre to maintain appearances obviously means I’m sleeping with her.” _

_ “Aren’t you?” she fumed, barely concerned any longer that he knew she was furious. _

_ He grinned with blatant delight and leaned into her, teasing his lips over hers. “What do you think?” _

_ His smugness didn’t overshadow the gleam in his eye she knew belonged to her. Whether she wanted it to or not, relief coursed through her, though she’d never admit that to him, especially considering the way they’d left things with him going on and on about how magnificent they’d be as one. _

_ Pulse throbbing from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she released his hand, allowing it to snake further under her dress, as she chased his mouth and murmured against his lips, “Fuck me.” _

_ “I thought you were worried about Eddy?” he mocked, even as his fingers twisted her underwear to the side, delving his digits along her like he’d been handed the map straight to his next expedition. “Shouldn’t you go play wife? I’m sure he’s grown use to having you close.” _

_ Done with his game, she lifted her hand to his belt, deftly slipping it though the loops as she leaned in close to his ear. _

_ “I want you to take your cock out of your pants,” she whispered, taking his lobe between her teeth before adding, “And fuck me with it.” _

_ As she said it, she grasped him, drawing a staggered breath from him as the hand over her head clutched her wrist and he gave an involuntary thrust into her palm. _

_ “Marisa,” he growled, turning into her mouth and consuming her, stealing the breath from her lungs as the fingers exploring her depths made quick work of the sparks in her belly, stoking them into an all out inferno. _

_ Lulling her head to the side, she gasped, her hips desperately pushing toward him as the sounds and lights from the party blurred around them. _

_ “Look at me,” he murmured, his voice strained as he dropped his hand to her cheek, his fingers guiding her eyes to his. _

_ There was an urgent craving behind the crystal blue, punctuated by the quickening of his digits as they left her depths to stroke higher. _

_ And she crashed at the first touch, thighs clutching at his hand as her fingers curled in his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as she rode out the waves. _

_ Before she had time to suck in her next breath, he pushed into her, leaving her to claw at his neck and back, mouth falling open as he made work of her neck. _

_ “No marks,” she moaned, trying to catch her breath as he tore into her like he was literally attempting to climb inside her; the brick at her back scratching her with every thrust. _

_ “You’re mine,” he growled, lifting his head and pressing his brow to hers as a hand tangled in her hair to hold her nearly unbearably tight to him. “I’ll do what I want with you.” _

_ Unable to help her laugh, she lifted her leg to hook over his hip as if to remind him she was the one possessing him. _

_ “You infuriate me,” he murmured. “You know you’ve captured me in your web, made me love you, and yet all you ever do is mock it and accuse me of betraying you.” _

_ Tilting her head back, she focused on the stars glittering through the trees and groaned, “Don’t start again.” _

_ “I’m an eligible bachelor with a reputation,” he growled, shifting her to wrap both legs around him, the new position causing a delicious twist in her belly. “What did you expect me to do? Suddenly go celibate in the public eye?” _

_ Digging her nails into his shoulder and collar, she held his mouth at bay as she arched into the wall and breathed, “I don’t care.” _

_ He brought an arm up and slapped her hands away before pressing back into her, drawing her dress down and ravaging her chest with the marks she’d dared him to leave. _

_ “I don’t want anyone else,” he whispered into her skin. “Not when I have my own greedy, little monkey to sate my needs.” _

_ Nails biting into the back of his neck, she drew them across his collar and shoulder, observing the red streaks and dots of blood that bubbled in her wake. _

_ His subsequent growl was buried somewhere in the valley of her breasts as he gave a final, staggered thrust and dissolved in her arms. _

_ Slowly, the laughter from inside the building returned and she became acutely aware of the state of them. _

_ The mussed hair, smeared lipstick, and remnants clinging to their thighs could be quickly mended, but his blood tinged white collar and the welt along his cheek could not. Unable to see herself, but knowing she looked similar brought a sigh to her lips. _

_ “You’ve ruined a perfectly wonderful evening.” _

_ He rested his brow to hers, drawing a finger up to trace along her jaw. “You were bored out of your mind.” _

_ “A minor detail,” she murmured, lifting his collar to fold correctly before fingering the blood stain. “This isn’t.” _

_ “We could just leave,” he suggested lightly, though unable to obscure the pleading in his eyes. “Make an excuse.” _

_ A heartbeat of regret passed before she planted her palms to his chest and shoved him away. “Don’t be ridiculous. We both have fixtures here, tonight.” _

_ “Which is who the excuse would be for,” he grunted while adjusting himself and relooping his belt. “You can’t go back in there like that unless you want Eddy to know you finally managed an orgasm this month.” _

_ Dropping her hands from attempting to fix her hair, she snapped her hands to his tie and jerked him to her, the sudden movement causing him to stumble back into her. “I fucking hate you.” _

_ The way his eyes softened suddenly made her wonder if she’d misspoken and used the antithesis of hate. _

_ “Stop looking at me like that,” she bit, twisting the tie and drawing him further down until he was within a breath of her. “You’re just something to pass the time.” _

_ “Come home with me,” he breathed, hands creeping around her waist, tugging her hips into his. “Send a note in saying you felt ill or that you spilled something on your dress.” _

_ “Asriel-“ _

_ “If you don’t leave with me, I’m going to drag you in there and confess our sins.” _

_ “What sin?” she wondered aloud, brushing her fingers to the welt on his cheek. “You forced yourself on me, held me to the wall and ignored my pleas for you to stop.” _

_ “Marisa,” he growled, fingers biting into her flesh as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “Don’t ever threaten me again.” _

_ With that, she slipped from between him and the wall to garner some breathing room. Her daemon, unfortunately, hadn’t done the same as he lingered at Stel’s side, his black fingers entangled in the fur at her neck. _

_ “There’s a second door beyond the first,” he said, shifting to lean against the wall, his eyes now the ones on the night sky. “You can take it to freshen up before heading back in to be your husband’s mindless, superficial arm piece.” _

_ The sting was lost to the night as he didn’t even bother to look for it as he turned to the steps leading out into the garden, his dark figure easily becoming lost on the shadows. Stel, on the other hand, lingered; her piercing gaze shifting from his retreating form to her daemon as though uncertainty laced her. _

_ “Marisa,” she murmured, low and dangerously, like she was a mother scolding her cub. _

_ Once again, that unsettling churning twisted in her gut as she took an unconscious half step forward before Stel groaned and dropped her head, the growing distance between she and Asriel finally pulling her toward the steps. _

_ It was enough to slap her back into reality enough to gather her wits and throw a reproachful glare to her daemon before turning on her heel. _

Envelope clasped in her hands, she turned toward the basement, forcing her heart to remain steady as she descended the stairs where she knew he would likely be absorbed in some text or gadget.

When she reached the bottom, she found him, just as she thought, milling away on his work bench. For a long moment, she stood and stared at him, the man she’d let slip those three little words to just this morning, those three words she’d never uttered to anyone... ever.

Sure, they’d been lingering in the back of her throat for years, practically since the moment she’d met him, but today... today was the day she’d said it and now this...

“So, what did Lyra do?” he asked, glancing at her with a grin as Stel lifted her head to look at them. “Lob a rock at the wrong person?”

Gathering her nerve, she pulled herself out of her stupor and moved to the opposite side of the desk, keeping her gaze from his direct view. “She held Brant Manfords’ daughter’s head under the water of a fountain.”

“She what?” he asked, a baffled chuckle escaping him. “Why?”

Absently fingering the dial on a microscope, she answered, “The girl called her a bastard and mentioned that I would have been happier if Edward had killed her as a baby.”

His silence was enough to draw her eyes to him only to find him staring, brow knit, at the stairs as though Lyra might be there.

“The headmaster wants Lyra to apologize.”

“She’s not apologizing,” he finally said, all amusement gone as his eyes blazed back to her. “What did Lyra say about it?”

Unable to maintain his intense gaze, she shrugged and went back to tinkering with his equipment.

“She’s angry with me.”

“With  _you_? She was fine this morning. She’s practically clung to you since you returned home.”

“I suppose with the headmaster being here, she thinks I’ve sided with him.”

“Have you?”

Jerking her gaze to his, she snapped, “Of course, I haven’t, but she’s refusing to return to school and threatening to run away if I attempt to force her.”

The tension seeped from his shoulders as he laughed and tapped his wrench against the desk. “She really is your daughter, isn’t she?”

Not sharing in his amusement, she rolled her eyes and replied, “I thought there’d be more time before all of this started. She’s nine years old.”

“The girl’s obviously been listening to her mother,” he offered, twisting a screw loose. “Charlotte’s not exactly discreet with her enjoyment of gossip.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she sighed. “I’ll take care of it. Charlotte’s a _fucking_ imbecile. If her daughter’s anything like her, I could hardly blame Lyra for wanting to drown her.”

He tossed the wrench on the desk and crossed his arms as he leveled her with a look, one that pierced her through and through. “There’s something else.”

Eyes falling from his, she fingered the envelope, still unsure of how to approach its contents despite her half hour of attempting to gather herself enough to do so.

“Why are you avoiding looking at me?” he asked, the heat of his gaze burning her. “You can’t possibly still be upset. I thought we settled everything this morning.”

“We did,” she murmured before tossing the envelope in front of him. “But apparently only one of us was being sincere.”

As he lifted the envelope and poured out its contents, she allowed her gaze to work its way to his face, wanting to see his reaction; to know the moment he realized she knew.

However, he gave little in the form of his thoughts as he thumbed through the photos, drawing out her frustration.

“Did you fuck her?”

He tossed the pictures back onto the desk and leaned on his elbows while meeting her eyes, clasping his hands together as he considered her too calmly for her liking. “No.”

An involuntary laugh slipped from her. “You expect me to believe you?”

“I’ve never lied to you before,” he said with a shrug, face still impassive. “I’m not going to start now. I was there because I needed something and I promised you I’d be discreet.”

_“Discreet?”_ she asked, incredulously, pushing from the desk and looking around as though he must be speaking to someone else before tossing her hand in the air. “It was the middle of the night, Asriel, which leads me to assume that what you needed was either down her throat or tucked between her thighs.”

“Marisa,” he sighed, running a hand down his face. “Please, don’t do this.”

“We  promised each other-“

“And I haven’t done anything!” he shouted, slamming his hand against the desk as he finally stood upright. “I will not stand here and be accused of something I haven’t even considered doing.”

_ Finally _ . Enraged Asriel was so much easier to get the truth out of than passive, Asriel. “What could you possibly have needed from her that took multiple, late night visits that just so happened to take place while I was gone?”

“Use your imagination, Marisa,” he yelled, eyes scorching her.

“I’m your  _wife_,” she quipped, jaw clenched as she crossed her arms. “Not your mistress. I expect a legitimate explanation from you.”

“Because you’re so forthcoming about all you do?” he snapped, finally pushing away from the desk and stalking around it. “You work for the Magisterium, Marisa, while I actively work against them. How much do you honestly think I’m going to share with you?”

Scoffing, she turned away from him as though to leave, but found her path blocked by Stel, fangs bared and claws digging into the concrete. Then, Asriel’s hands were on her arms as he forced her into the desk.

_ “Don’t-“ _

“No, _you_ don’t,” he growled, pinning her between his arms as he planted his hands flat on the desk, effectively trapping her. “I’m not playing this game with you, Marisa.”

“There is no game,” she disputed. “I simply don’t believe you. It’s not as though you’ve never had an affair before.”

Disgust swept over his features. “You’re the most hardheaded, difficult to love, woman in the world.”

“Well, perhaps, she can fill your time, now, since I’ve become such a bore and burden.”

His gaze hardened as he crushed her to the desk, weight bearing down on her, his mouth swallowing hers. It took her so off guard that she found herself struggling to breathe as he consumed her.

“Get off me,” she groaned, jerking her head to the side as she shoved at what amounted to be an unmovable force. “Asriel, stop.”

He lifted his head to look at her, but she turned her gaze further from his. “If you’re going to come down here and accuse me of something, Marisa, you should at least have the decency to look at me while doing it.”

“I accused and you denied it. There’s nothing more to discuss,” she replied, twisting in an attempt to break his hold. 

“I love you and _only_ you,” he promised, voice softening in what she’d label an attempt to manipulate her.

“It’s not a question of love, so much as devotion, my  _love,_” she mocked, nails biting into his sides.

“Fine,” he spat, shoving away from her, allowing her to stumble forward with his lack of weight. “I know there’s no arguing with you once your mind’s made up, so go ahead, believe what you want.” He flung a hand toward the door. “Go scheme and plot my punishment, Marisa. Figure out the best way to inflict upon me what you’re feeling now.”

Pulse racing, she watched him turn his back on her and begin slamming his equipment around as Stel backed away and reclined on her hind legs. She wanted to dispute him; scream at him; claw his eyes out.

However, before she could do any of that, he whirled back on her and shouted, “I’ve never  _once_ slept with someone else while we were together and I refuse to continue being accused of it when you’re the one who’s  always had other lovers.”

“I-“

“No, I’m sick of your fucking selfishnes,” he snapped, throwing the wrench to the ground. “From the very beginning, I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. You wouldn’t leave Edward so I accommodated you and then you had the gall to be jealous when I took the company of other women to keep up pretenses. I kept your secrets, put up with your schemes and lies, and then I lost everything, including the child you demanded I take, as thanks for it.”

“And I gave it all back to you!” she yelled, meeting his rage with her own. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it? The chase is over and complacency has set in.”

There’d been very few times she’d seen Asriel genuinely flash at her with the rage present in his gaze now, but as he stepped forward and grabbed her, she felt a momentary fear that he’d actually hurt her splinter up her spine.

“Don’t you  dare stand here and pretend any of this was for me,” he growled, fingers digging into her arms and jerking her to him. “You got pregnant and sought out the best solution to your problem. Lyra and I are attachments that happened to come along with your latest scheme.”

“That’s not true,” she protested, going limp in his grasp. “I did all of this for us.”

“As I recall, you already had a replacement for me in mind if I didn’t go along with what you wanted.”

“Asriel-“ she pleaded, twisting her fingers into his shirt as circulation began to deplete in her arms. “You’re hurting me.”

“Because that’s the only thing you respond to, Marisa. Do you think I would put up with you if I didn’t love you, if I wasn’t devoted to you?” His grip loosened as he shoved her away from him. “You can’t even tell me you love me without taking it back.” He held up his hands. “Perhaps, I should accept that you don’t; that I’m just another piece on the board like Edward was, like Marcel, and even Lyra. Maybe your mother was right. Maybe you’re simply _incapable_ of love.”

Chest heaving with staggered breaths, she reeled back, uncertainty lacing her thoughts for the first time. He may well have slapped her for the impact of the windedness that overtook her.

“No, you know that’s not true,” she said, recovering enough to realize she’d gone too far. “I want you. I’ve always just wanted you.”

“You could never be that simple,” he spat. “You want  _everything_ , Marisa, and I know you can’t help it; the fact that you want to devour everything in your path. I’ve loved you for that passion, but you can’t keep doing this and I’m sure as hell not going to allow you to inflict your selfishness on our children.”

She made a move to reach for him, to touch him, only to have him start for the door before she could. “Asriel, where are you going?”

“_Out_, Marisa,” he shouted. “Perhaps, I’ll go bed that woman so we can actually fight about something that’s true for once.”

_“Do you ever feel guilty?”_

_She glanced at him over her shoulder as she rolled her hose up her leg. “For what?”_

_He chuckled and rolled to his side, a single finger tracing down her spine. “For taking advantage of me, of course.”_

_Amused, she followed his lead and asked, “I’ve taken advantage of you?”_

_“Oh, yes,” he teased, replacing his finger with his lips, tickling her flesh as he nipped at the knobs along her back. “I find myself quite helpless under the spell you’ve woven.”_

_Eyes falling closed, she sighed and tilted her head to the side as he made his way to her neck, permitting him all the access he desired._

_As his hands came up to push her hair to the side, he murmured in her ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. “So, do you?”_

_“Do I, what?” she asked, quite lost in his affections._

_“Feel guilty,” he whispered, even as his hand dropped to her breast, toying with her._

_Resting her head back against his shoulder, she sighed, “I believe it’s a little unfair to broach that question at this moment.”_

_“You’re the most evasive creature I’ve ever met,” he laughed, turning her face to his, chin caught between his nimble fingers. “And the most extraordinary.”_

_Effectively caught in his charm, she tilted forward and caught his bottom lip between her teeth, biting down and drawing a guttural growl from him._

_“Stay with me,” he murmured, hand falling down her front to rest between her thighs, fingers toying with an entirely different button. “I’ll make it worth your while.”_

_Grinning into his kiss, she replied, “Nothing’s worth the tantrum I’d be forced to endure if I missed Edward’s dinner. He needs me there to distract from the fact that he’s utterly boring.”_

_As she untangled herself from him, she turned with a smile at his groan to find him scowling at her as she snatched her dress from the headboard._

_“You’re a child,” she laughed, drawing her dress up her body and slipping her arms through the sleeves. “I don’t know why I waste my time with you.”_

_His frown melted only slightly. “Because I give you tantalizing things to think about while you sit and listen to your utterly boring husband.”_

_Rolling her eyes, she turned her back to him and began combing her hair with her fingers. “Zip me.”_

_She could feel the gruffness through his movements as he did as she asked. Then, his arms wrapped around her middle as he pressed his brow into the center of her back._

_As he did so, she watched with mild annoyance as her daemon leaned into his, giving way to her comfort in his arms. There was a large part of her that envied the carefree way they interacted while another part despised it. It was far too domestic and gave Asriel too much leverage to use against her._

_Allowing him one more moment, she pried herself loose and moved to slip into her heels._

_When she turned, she couldn’t help but laugh at his absolute lack of shame as he sat there with his hands planted on either side of him, bare as the day he was born while not even trying to hide his agitation. If she left him this way, he’d pout for days and she’d not get anything out of him._

_Biting her lip, she stepped between his thighs and kissed his cheek before whispering, “I never feel guilty when I’m with you.”_

_ Not meeting his eyes, she turned and headed toward the door. _


	12. The Brightest Star

_ There was something twisted about the way the human eye worked when gazing at the night sky. There was no allowance for singular focus toward one piece of the brilliance of the heavens when it was all clustered so tightly. _

_ Swaying gently, more with the breeze than against it, she curled her fingers around the glass, its weight odd between her fingers. _

_ The trouble with that was its emptiness as she fingered the rough edges, lip caught between her teeth as her gaze flitted between the stars; the blurry, blinking mystery of them. _

_ “Marisa... come down from there.” _

_ A small hum tingled her throat. “Do you even know why I chose that name?” _

_ “What is it you want, Marisa? Do you want me to feel sorry for you? I don’t.” _

_ Her laughter sounded foreign, distant, like it might belong to someone else. Holding out her hand, she allowed the glass to gently slide down her fingers. “So delicate... one little slip and it’ll shatter beyond repair... hmm. Isn’t that fascinating? How just one little slip... one moment, can obliterate all the rest?” _

_ “Don’t be foolish, girl.” _

_ Turning her head, she took in her mother’s calm, calculating expression; not a single worry line to be seen as she watched her daughter hover an inch from death. _

_ “Would you even care?” she asked, twisting to take a step along the edge, ignoring the tense crouch of her daemon a few feet away. “I know you have the spare and all, but to be fair I am your only daughter.” _

_ “I’d lay it at Asriel’s feet,” her mother replied, not an ounce of emotion slipping. “He’d have you completely finished off.” _

_ “Of course, you’d never take the blame upon yourself.” The mention of him brought her eyes back to the vastness of the night sky. “She’s my only daughter.” _

_ “You’ll have opportunities for other daughters, but you and I both know you don’t actually want that, Marisa.” _

_ When she found what she was looking for, that one bright star that lit the path of the rest, her hand went slack, the glass’s weight sliding away easily, becoming as irreparable as she now was. _

Running a hand through her hair, she made her way up the stairs, taking care with her steps as her vision swam in and out of focus, attempting to pull her right back down from whence she’d come. The rest of her evening had been spent in her office, drowning her sorrows in the remainder of the decanter of Tokay. Honestly, she was a little surprised she’d made it this far up the staircase in her state.

Pausing at the top to gather herself, she looked to the end of the hall to find Lyra’s door ajar with light pouring into the hallway. A glance at her watch told her it was nearly eleven, well past the time Lyra should have been asleep, which was exactly why she’d waited until this time to emerge from her self-induced isolation.

Tired of evasiveness and deflecting, she’d resorted to simple avoidance and hadn’t wanted Lyra to see her quite so out of her element. It wasn’t like she needed to give her daughter another reason to be put out with her.

With a quick pat to her hair and cheeks, she made her way down the hallway, keeping close to the wall lest she lose her balance. However, the sound of Asriel’s voice brought her up short just outside the door.

“Have you met the king?”

“Yes,” he replied, voice light and tinged with laughter. “Iorek Byrnison. We made a few negotiations the last time I was in the North. He was impressed by my astrology skills.”

“That’s  so cool,” Lyra said excitedly. “Wait, astrology? Does that mean you named me?”

“The constellation, Lyra,” Asriel mused before adding, “It was actually your mother who named you. It’s her favorite constellation.”

Leaning against the wall outside the door, she closed her eyes and brought a hand to her head as the mix of alcohol and turmoil felt like it was warring inside her, in a battle to see which could rip her apart fastest. After Asriel had left, she’d assumed he wouldn’t return for the night much less end up in Lyra’s room, telling stories; something he wasn’t exactly accustomed to doing.

“She’s going to make me go back to that school with all of those awful girls and snobby teachers, isn’t she?”

Lyra’s voice was tinged with that same disdain she’d bestowed on her earlier in her study, no doubt with the same stubborn expression dominating her features.

“Yes,” he answered, tone more sober than before. “Do you know why?”

“Cause she hates me,” Lyra responded immediately, causing her to slide down the wall to rest her head in her hands.

She didn’t understand how all of this had happened. They’d all been fine, happy even. Then, she’d left and returned only to have everything blow up in her face.

“Hardly,” he chuckled. “Do you know why Lyra is her favorite constellation?”

“She’s not really a sharer,” Lyra deadpanned.

Asriel laughed, genuinely. The sound brought an unintentional smile to her face as she leaned her head back against the wall.

“No, she isn’t,” he went on. “You see, with all of the other famous constellations in the sky, Lyra could easily be overlooked as insignificant. She’s so small and only visible certain times of the year. She could be forgettable.”

“Like I said, she hates me.”

“Quite the contrary,” he replied. “You see, though Lyra is among the smallest of constellations, one of the brightest stars in the night sky exists within her.”

“And?”

“And...” he said, dramatically drawing it out. “It means you should never overlook something or someone just because they may at first appear small and insignificant.” He paused and she could practically see the deep expression on his face. “You’re not a mistake, Lyra. You’re the product of something extraordinary. She named you, Lyra, because you’re the brightest part of her; I believe the only part she truly loves without reservation.”

There was a long moment of silence before Lyra asked, “How come she never says it?”

The tears came, forcing her to bring a hand to her mouth to keep the sob which had built in her throat at bay as it attempted to claw out of her.

“I learned a long time ago not to base her love on what she says. You’re going to have to learn that, too.”

“Because she’s a liar,” Lyra said before adding, “But even if she does care, that doesn’t explain why I have to go back to that school.”

“I’m surprised someone as smart as you think you are can’t figure it out.”

Lyra’s groan made it all the way to the hallway. “You’re infuriating.”

“And you’re a brat,” he returned, equally as rough. “You’re a Belacqua, Lyra. We don’t run away when an obstacle obstructs our path. We face it head on and show everyone who’s really in charge.”

“Technically, I’ve been a Delamere longer than a Belacqua,” Lyra argued, likely crossing her arms to emphasize her point. “And  _we_ are tutored at home.”

“Oh? Well, perhaps, we should return you, then,” Asriel suggested. “You can resume your piano lessons and tea serving.”

“Maybe you should. It was good enough for her, wasn’t it?”

All went quiet save for her exaggerated breathing while she waited for Asriel to lose his temper. Instead, he laughed again.

“You know you’re just like her, you stubborn, little monkey.” There was a thud and Lyra squealed with laughter. “I won’t be surprised if your daemon settles in the same form.”

“Why doesn’t he talk? Her daemon?”

“He talks,” Asriel replied, though she could hear the hesitation in it. “He talks to Stelmaria.”

“I’ve never heard him and neither has Pan.”

“You’ve never heard plenty of things,” he returned. “It doesn’t mean they’re not being said.”

“Why are you being so nice to me? I thought you hated me, too.”

“Do I, or Marisa for that matter, strike as you as the type to keep you around if we hated you?”

“You always call me a brat and act like I’m annoying.”

“You  _ are _ an annoying brat,” Asriel chuckled. “Now, since like your mother there’s absolutely no reasoning with you until you’ve had some time to chew it all to pieces, off to bed.”

There was shuffling and the room went dark. Then, Asriel appeared in the doorway, his eyes catching hers, glinting with momentary surprise before Lyra’s voice drifted through the darkness.

“Do you think mama’s extraordinary?”

Asriel paused, the wheels shifting in his eyes, before looking back at Lyra with a sigh. “I think she’s the most extraordinary person in the world.”

Eyes falling closed, she couldn’t bare to look at him as the weight of their circumstances crushed her again.

“Goodnight, monkey.”

The door clicked shut and she could feel his footsteps as they moved closer to her. For once, she didn’t know what to do with herself. The urge to beg for his forgiveness popped into her mind, to tell him that he did matter, that she loved him so much she felt like she was being strangled by it, but she shoved it aside in favor of threading her fingers through Oz’s fur, digging her nails into his neck.

However, instead of acknowledging her, he walked past her and into their bedroom. The sob that had been lingering in the back of her throat finally overtook her as she folded over on herself.

She’d ruined everything without even meaning to. Was it her penance for her life of sin? To finally have everything she wanted only to have it all turn against her?

_ “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, throwing her jacket over the back of a chair. _

_ “Remind me to fire Thorold,” he groaned, snapping his book closed and tossing it on the table, looking every inch the part of a lover scorned. “What do you want, Marisa?” _

_ Pursing her lips, she considered him a moment as she ran her fingers along the back of the chair her daemon had leaped to sit in. “I get the feeling you already know.” _

_ “Well, he’s been bragging about it to anyone who’ll listen; his next little campaign poster.” He gave a harsh laugh. “I seem to recall you saying you had no interest in being a mother.” _

_ Allowing him his little rant, she answered, “I don’t.” _

_ “I’d think you’d rather enjoy it,” he mocked, voice laced with malice. “You could mold the little soul sucker into whatever you wanted; an easy manipulation device.” _

_ Lifting a hand to her eyes, she leveled him with a defeated look. “Asriel.” _

_ The week he’d spent evading her had left her exhausted and on the verge of a meltdown. When she’d discovered her pregnancy, she’d known he was the father immediately, their recklessness after his brother’s funeral blurring both their abilities to make good decisions. He’d pleaded with her to stay with him and she’d, for once, permitted him everything. _

_ Afterward, she’d made the case to Edward to wait a while before announcing the news in an attempt to keep it from Asriel before she could see him, to tell him in her own way. The fool hadn’t listened. _

_ It felt like a lifetime; the heartbeats he took gauging her. To her surprise, it was Stelmaria who came to her side, lifting her front paws to the arm of the chair to better lean into her, sniffing her as though she could literally smell the paternity. _

_ Forcing herself to not grip the leopard’s fur, she kept her eyes on her lover as her daemon edged to brush Stel’s face. _

_ “Are you going to say anything?” she finally asked, ready to welcome just about any response. _

_ “I love you.” _

_ Any response except that. _

_ “Please, don’t. That’s not...” Pursing her lips, she shook her head. “I’m not here for pointless declarations.” _

_ “You say that as though I can stop it,” he said, leaning forward in his chair as his eyes lingered on her belly. “You may as well ask me to stop time or pluck the sun from the sky.” _

_ The earnestness in his eyes couldn’t be ignored. It was so profound that she actually took a step back, detracting from his daemon. _

_ “This is a problem, Asriel,” she scolded, pacing to the fireplace as a chill set in her bones. “Not some half witted feeling in your gut.” _

_ “Ah, right, of course I must be mad to be in love with you, the infamously cold and calculating, Marisa Coulter.” _

_ “I’m married,” she snapped, spinning to face him. “Do you have any idea what will happen if this comes out? What they’ll do to us?” _

_ “Then, we won’t let it come out.” _

_ He said it so matter of factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. _

_ “Oh, so you’re just going to stand by and allow Edward to call your child his own?” She scoffed. “With the way you piss on everything you can to mark it as yours? Doubtful.” _

_ “Marisa,” he murmured, reaching out and snatching her hand before she could step away. “Come here, you stubborn monkey.” _

_ “This isn’t one of our game’s, Asriel.” _

_ “Yes, I’m aware,” he replied, looking up at her as he pulled her to stand between his legs. “Games are fun. This isn’t. Now, breathe.” _

_ Resting her hands in his unruly hair, she ran them down his face where he looked at her expectantly and she finally allowed herself to take a deep breath. He could be so confident, so sure, at times when she knew he didn’t need to be. However, his confidence in this was something she desperately needed._

_ “We’re having a baby,” she finally admitted out loud, causing his face to melt into a triumphant smile and her subsequently to bite out, “It’s not a prize.” _

_ “Oh, I beg to differ,” he chuckled, fingers dancing along the back of her legs. “I won’t tell anyone if you admit you prefer it being mine.” _

_ His delight was too contagious not to be drawn into it. _

_ “You’re impossible,” she laughed, finally relaxing into him. “Do you really think we could get away with it?” _

_ “Why wouldn’t we?” He grinned. “Your genes are likely eating mine alive as we speak.” _

_ Unable to help her laughter, she cupped his face and leaned forward, allowing him to wash away all her worry. _

Out of nowhere, hands slipped around her as he lifted her from the floor. All thoughts apart from just touching him seeped away as she let go of her daemon and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Asri-Asriel, I can’t breathe,” she choked as he kicked their door shut and carried her to their bathroom before setting her on the counter. “I can’t-“

“Shh,” he murmured, his fingers deftly unzipping her dress and pulling it from her before he bent to remove her shoes. “Let’s get you in the bath and you’ll feel better.”

When he stepped back to turn and check the water, she practically wilted at the loss of contact with him. “Asriel, don’t leave me.”

His gaze returned to her, not soft or hard, just... she wasn’t sure, as he stepped close to scoop her up again.

The water scalded her as he set her in the tub, but it was a welcome reprieve from the pain clawing inside her. It ate at her skin like it could burn away all her sins.

“Here,” he muttered, gathering her hair off to the side as he grabbed a sponge and began washing her body, taking it over her neck and chest.

“I haven’t seen you this drunk since the re-election party,” he commented, running the sponge over her shoulders and down her back.

“You didn’t see me after your trial,” she whispered, eyes fixed on the water, the way it rippled over her legs, trying to get away from her like everything else. “My mother found me on the balcony that night... standing on the ledge.”

He paused, his hand on her back going still. Eyes falling closed, she rested her head against her knees. “I was... Edward was dead, you hated me, they wouldn’t let me see Lyra. I thought it would be easier to just... finally let go. I’d thought about it so many times before. It seemed like the right time.”

“Marisa, you-“

“But she wouldn’t let me,” she went on, digging her nails into her legs. “She had Marcel lock me in my room until I came out of it. I just remember... screaming. I can still remember her nails biting into my arms as she jerked me off the ledge and her telling me how selfish I was for being so weak.”

His fingers eased under her chin to turn her to him, his eyes darting all over her face with... it may have been pity, possibly concern. She couldn’t be sure. Everything was so muddled, so out of focus.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because she was right, I was weak,” she whispered. “I didn’t want you to know I cared.”

His head fell forward as he pressed the back of his hand to his eyes, the tension in his body clearly coiled. “Why does that matter so much to you?”

“Because if you left me, you wouldn’t know how much I-“ She laid a hand to his cheek, drawing him back to her, needing him to see the depth of her sorrow. “How much I’ve _always_ loved you, Asriel. How much I’ve always-  _always_ wanted you. I knew that first night that you’d tear me apart if I let you and I tried  so hard not to let you, but you just... no one had ever looked at me like you. I didn’t know how to be in love. I still don’t.”

The way his eyes followed her hurt more than the admittance; their deep concern burning her worse than the scalding water.

Rather than saying anything in response, he nodded and resumed washing her, taking his time to touch her softly, almost as though she was made of glass. Normally, she’d despise such delicacy, but tonight she absolutely craved it. A comfortable quiet settled between them as she finally managed to stop crying. Then, when she was on the verge of falling asleep under his attention, he lifted her out to dry and dress her before carrying her to their bed, never straying more than a few feet from her as he discarded his own wet clothes.

As he dropped the last garment from himself, he turned to her and sighed, his eyes lingering somewhere just behind her rather than on her.

It was clear he was as lost for what to say as she was regarding what to feel. “Do you think Lyra hates me?”

He finally smiled, exhaustion clinging to his shoulders as he moved to sit on the bed beside her. “I think we’re going to have our hands full with your mini counterpart, but no... she just wants you to admit you love her.”

Nodding into her pillow, she released a staggered breath. That shouldn’t have been as difficult a thought as it was.

“You need to spend time with Lyra.”

Confusion swept her as her eyes darted to his. “I spend time with her-“

“No, you manage her,” he cut her off before laying his hand to her arm, brushing her skin gently. “I’ll admit even I didn’t think you could handle motherhood, Marisa. I thought you were too broken and overbearing, but you’re not. You’re...“

“Extraordinary?” she offered, a small smile climbing to her lips.

“I wouldn’t go that far yet,” he chuckled, crawling over her to lay behind her. “But you’re definitely better than your mother.”

“I don’t think Lyra would agree with you,” she whispered.

“She’s simply confused,” he answered, tracing lines along her back. “You need to explain everything to her.”

“She’s too young-“

“She’s old enough to know what a bastard is,” he interjected. “And to feel the weight of it.”

The word brought a wave of sorrow over her.

“I didn’t think about it,” she admitted softly, eyes on Stel as she curled around Oz. “About what would happen to the baby when we were... being so reckless.”

His hands crept around her waist as he pressed against her back. “There was no reason to. We were young and arrogant. We didn’t plan for it to fall apart.”

“It shouldn’t have,” she said. “She was safe with you and then Edward... I still don’t understand how he found out. I had him convinced the baby had died, that I was... and then he just suddenly knew... everything.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Marisa,” he murmured into her shoulder. “He’s gone. That part of our life is over.”

“But it’s not,” she replied, turning in his arms. “You should have seen the look on her face. I can’t get it out of my head.”

He sighed, propping his head up as he looked down at her. “Lyra is going to be fine.” Brushing her hair from her neck, he went on, “Once she has a firm grasp on her place here with us, I promise you... she’s going to dominate that snobby school.”

Why she tried to reason with a man so smooth with his words, she’d never understand. “You know, Lyra didn’t completely inherit her lack of being able to be reasoned with from me.”

“You’re right, there’s plenty of your mother in there, too.”

“You are so- ugh,” she groaned, slapping his shoulder. “I can’t stand you sometimes.”

He laughed and caught her hand, threading his fingers through hers.

After a moment, she sobered and admitted, “I’m sorry... for earlier.”

He lifted a teasing brow. “I believe I just hallucinated. What was that?”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “Lyra’s right. You’re infuriating.”

“Marisa,” he went on, calling her eyes back to his. “I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Just... promise me whatever you’re doing in secret won’t see you taken from us.”

Bringing her fingers to his lips, he murmured, “The only way I’m leaving you is in a wooden box; one you’ve put me in.”

A slow sigh slipped through her lips as she nodded. “Alright.”

He shook his head and laid down, pulling the blankets over them. “Sleep, love.”

Curling into his side, she closed her eyes, finally allowing this day to seep away, falling asleep to the rhythm of his heart.


	13. Fickle Words Meet A Loving Gesture

There were moments she’d come to anticipate when she woke now, brief ones, where all was quiet and she could simply listen to his breathing. With his arm around her, she could watch the sun creep through the window, a new day welcoming her to the fact that ten years had passed since she’d stood in his cottage, plotting how to cover the baby growing inside her.

If told then she’d one day be his wife, the mother of not one, but two of his children, she’d have laughed in that person’s face.

_ “Do you want one?” _

_ “One what?” she murmured, fingers brushing over his chin and down his throat, eyes following the path as she listened to the slow beat of his heart. _

_ “A child.” _

_ A soft laugh escaped her. “No.” _

_ “Does he?” She felt his breathing shift. “I can’t imagine he wouldn’t. It’d make a wonderful selling point for the nuclear family politician.” _

_ “I’ve convinced him we have plenty of time,” she answered, unsure why it mattered. “I have no intention of destroying my body at twenty-two.” _

_ He chuckled but she could tell his mind was still working, gears turning round and round. _

_ “My mother thinks I need to take a wife, provide an heir.” His fingers grazed her spine. “She created a list of appropriate choices.” _

_ “A list?” she laughed, lifting her head to look at him. “You’re not exactly an old man yet. You’re not even thirty.” _

_ “I think she’s become a little too involved in my brother’s wedding,” he offered, stretching his arm over his head. “Apparently, I need to settle, too. Put down roots, she said. So, I’ll quit running off and remain close to her.” _

_ “I can see why she’d be worried about reminding you to visit,” she teased, drawing a finger down his throat. “Though, I can’t see you settling down.” _

_ Rather than laugh with her, he grew more somber. “I’ve never cared for the idea of marriage and children.” _

_ The thought of Asriel tied down to a wife with a few children afoot to annoy him amused her. “I can only imagine the brooding scoundrels you’d produce.” _

_ “And yours would be uptight, power hungry, little monkeys,” he growled, rolling to face her, his hand resting at her hip to pull her in closer. “Just imagine what we’d create together. Beauty, brains, and an arrogant appetite for devouring the world.” _

_ Running her fingers along his jaw, she whispered, “Perhaps, that’s why we didn’t meet first. Fate knew the world wouldn’t be able to handle it.” _

_ “I think our child would be a dazzling concoction.” He took her fingers and kissed them. “I’d not be so opposed to the idea if you were available to bear it.” _

_ “Asriel,” she whispered low, already feeling the edges of tension rising. “Don’t ruin our evening.” _

_ His eyes danced between hers, jaw flexing and nose flaring every few heartbeats before he rolled away from her and took to staring at the ceiling again, brooding asusual when she pushed back at his ideas. _

_ “Tell me something about you,” he finally sighed. “Something no one else knows.” _

_ “I’m having a salacious affair with Asriel Belacqua,” she grinned. _

_ “Oh?” he chuckled. “Is that a fact?” _

_ She smiled and grazed her nails over his arm. “Tell me something about you.” _

_ “I’m hopelessly enthralled with a deceptively charming, married woman.” His eyes flickered playfully to hers. “Now, really tell me.” _

_ Fluttering her eyes, she sighed, “I don’t know... I-“ Chewing her lip, she said, “There’s nothing interesting that you don’t already know.” _

_ “Doubtful,” he murmured, drumming his fingers on his chest. “Why do you hate him so much?” _

_ “I don’t hate Edward, I simply -” _

_ “Your daemon,” he quickly cut in. “There’s a certain level of loathing there I can’t wrap my mind around. Stel worries after him.” _

_ “Stel worries?” she echoed, knowing that was only half true. _

_ “He’s your soul, Marisa,” he softly whispered. “You should care for him better.” _

_ “Thats not your concern,” she bristled, withdrawing her hand to rest on the sheets between them. “Besides, he’s a burdensome, foul little thing.” _

_ “Stel thinks he’s magnificent, but he clings to her as though it’s the only time he’s shown affection.” He lulled his head to look at her again. “She said he hates Bathilda. Apparently, his daemons a hateful bitch.” _

_ “Well, she’s certainly not nearly as soft,” she spat, having had enough. “Are you really trying to pick a fight with me?” _

_ “Perhaps, I’ve grown tired of being tortured,” he replied sharply. “I don’t enjoy pain as much as you.” _

_ “You actually think we’d survive each other, Asriel?” she asked. “We can barely make it through one conversation without fighting. We’d kill each other.” _

_ “I think spending my entire life without you, watching you bear someone else’s mediocre children, would be the most extraordinarily wasteful thing to ever happen.” He traced her lips. “Watching him relegate you to the sidelines, suffocate your brilliance... I can’t stand it, Marisa.” _

_ For a moment longer than she should have, she became caught up in his eyes, in the wants not so hidden there, before she finally blinked herself out of it. _

_ “This conversation is what’s suffocating,” she groaned, rolling to her back and throwing an arm over her eyes to keep him from seeing it. “Affairs are supposed to be intoxicating, fun... this is- it’s more difficult than my actual marriage.” _

_ “This isn’t an affair.” _

_ Dropping her arm, she laughed at how seriously that had fallen from his mouth. “Oh?” _

_ He pulled her against him, drawing her thigh over his hip as he burrowed into her. _

_ “This is something extraordinary. You don’t have to acknowledge it. I don’t need you to. I see it right here,” he murmured, tracing over her eyes and down her nose. “I see all those things you try to hide from me; all those desires and all that passion.” _

_ “And I’m beginning to see the depth of your delusions,” she replied, even as she stifled the sudden need he was purposefully arousing. _

_ “Give me one good reason you’d prefer staying with him over marrying me.” _

_ “Asriel-“ _

_ The ease with which he drew her in set off a ripple of annoyance down her spine. The man was equal parts infuriating and intoxicating. _

_ As he grasped her thigh for leverage to keep her close, he murmured against her lips. “I’d give you everything.” _

_ Nails biting into his sides, she groaned, “He’s settled. I don’t have to worry after him running off with the next shiny thing that catches his eye.” _

_ “You don’t want settled, Marisa,” he growled, rolling over her, his hands tugging her thighs up and around him. “You want intoxicating, violent pain. You’ll never be satisfied with less than absolute chaos.” _

_ “And you just want to claim something you know you’ll never have,” she snapped back, even as she dug her nails into his shoulder blades, drawing him closer to her. “You don’t want children any more than I do. You just want to brag that you won.” _

A soft knock brought her head up and out of her thoughts, gaze shifting to the door where she didn’t even have to ask to know who it was.

“Come in,” she called softly, watching as the door cracked open to reveal Lyra, her dark hair pouring over her shoulder as she leaned in. “Is Lynx awake?”

Lyra shook her head as she looked over to the daemons curled together on the floor beside the bed, hesitating to move further into the room.

“Come here,” she said, holding a hand out and beckoning Lyra over while trying to stay quiet so as not to wake Asriel.

While Lyra complied, she took note of the tentativeness to the steps and the way she curled her fingers over the sleeves of her sleep shirt, tugging the material in her grasp as Pan scurried around her feet.

By the time Lyra was beside the bed, she’d resolved she didn’t care for the tension between them any longer.

“You’re up early,” she commented as Lyra kept her eyes on the floor.

“My brain won’t stop,” Lyra murmured, lifting her eyes to hers momentarily before dropping them again.

“Mine too,” she sighed, unsure if she wanted to know exactly what thoughts were keeping her daughter up. She hadn’t exactly spent much time with a level head the night before contemplating the entirety of the situation she found herself in with Lyra, or how to fix it.

“I’m sorry, mama,” Lyra finally muttered, fidgeting with her sleeves. “I don’t wish I didn’t know you. I just...”

A heaviness clung to her slender shoulders as they slumped and she began to worry at her bottom lip as she clearly tried to select her next words.

“Lyra,” she whispered, making a quick decision to lift the blankets before she could give it too much thought. “Here.”

Lyra hesitated for a moment, brow knit like she didn’t understand as her eyes flickered from the blankets to her, before she once again complied and eased into the bed beside her. She honestly didn’t know what she was doing, but if Asriel thought it would help, she supposed it was the right place to start, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

Once Lyra was situated on her back, she crossed her arms and laid still, looking every bit as lost for what to do as she.

A few heartbeats passed of her studying Lyra’s profile before she realized she was the adult and would have to be the one to say something lest they remain as they were.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Lyra’s head rolled to face her, surprise clinging to her eyes as they darted between hers. “Why are  _ you _ sorry? I’m the one who embarrassed you.”

“You didn’t-“ She paused and lifted a hand to brush Lyra’s hair over her ear. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m pretty sure it was,” Lyra admitted, finally loosening up and tossing her hands up only to let them flop back down. “I just- everything went red and I just grabbed her. I don’t even really remember the teachers stopping me.”

Oh, she understood that part perfectly. To be fair, she’d have not made such a show of it, but Sally Manford would have been knocked down one way or another.

“Either way, I should have prepared you for girls like her. She may be the first, but she’ll hardly be the last.”

“Because it’s true,” Lyra said, eyes on the blanket as she twisted it between her fingers. “I am a bastard. Lynx isn’t, but I am and everyone...”

There was a significant knot at the back of her throat where words were supposed to form. Unuse to such a thing, she found her mind racing from one answer to the next without any of them actually seeming correct. However, the one thing she could do was lay her hands over Lyra’s, stopping her fidgeting.

“I remember the first time I realized I was going to be a mother.” She lightly scratched over a bruise on Lyra’s wrist. “I was sitting in the middle of a cafe and I was reading some paper. Then, all of a sudden, I felt this... flutter... right here.” She laid a hand to her belly. “I was stunned at first. I hadn’t really been prepared to feel you.”

“Was it a kick?” Lyra asked, attention now raptly fixed on her. “Like Lynx did?”

“Mhm,” she smiled. “It was right after that when I realized... you were real and that, whether I was ready or not, I would be your mother. I began to actually think about what that would be like... to have a child when I’d never even wanted children, but...”

Lyra’s eyes followed her as she lifted a hand to her cheek.

“When you were born, you were so beautiful; so pure. You looked so much like Asriel.” She brushed her hand over Lyra’s eyes. “And to my complete surprise, you had the brownest eyes.”

“But father’s eyes are like yours. They’re not brown.” Lyra frowned at her skeptically. “Are you  sure he’s my father and not your other husband?”

A laugh bubbled in her throat. “I’m sure. His eyes were gray and, besides that, you were far too beautiful to be Edward’s.”

At her assurance, Lyra’s frown didn’t lessen. “Isn’t it wrong? That I’m not his daughter?”

“I-“ Sighing, she shrugged her shoulders, realizing justifying her affair to the child produced from it was a delicate line to balance. “It’s complicated, Lyra. I’m sure you’ll understand better when you’re older.”

“But when you get married, aren’t you suppose to love that person forever?”

“It’s rarely that way,” she admitted, pressing her pillow further under her head. “And I didn’t marry Edward because I loved him. To be honest, I- I didn’t really choose to marry him for any good reasons.”

“Why did you, then?”

“Mostly, it was...” She caught Lyra’s eyes, knowing this wouldn’t go over well. “I wanted things, things I knew I could obtain with him, and... I wanted to get away from my family.”

“But Madame Delamere loves you,” Lyra protested emphatically, eyes big and sure. “I know she does.”

“Lyra,” she sighed, chewing her cheek to keep from saying something she shouldn’t. “I  know she’s been good to you and I’m so happy that she has, but... I didn’t grow up like you did. It was- love was not a valuable commodity during my childhood and my mother had certain ideas about who I was, about what kind of person I would be. She thought I was a bad seed and treated me accordingly. Eventually, I learned to... I learned to not care about love; about other people; to not care about anything outside of myself and what I could do for myself.”

Lyra stared at her a moment before nodding, the wheels turning behind those big brown eyes. She wasn’t sure she’d convinced her of anything. For Lyra to understand the darkness of her childhood in light of the more lenient one she’d had would be hard she imagined.

“But you love father, don’t you?”

A smile touched her lips as she answered softly, “I do. I didn’t want to, but... he has a way of getting what he wants.”

“And that’s how I’m here,” Lyra stated, clearly sorting all the new information she’d received. “Because you loved father.”

Put simply, she could allow that to slide as the truth. It was close enough. “Right.”

“Well, why didn’t you just get married? After father stopped Edward from hurting me?”

“It was-“ She pursed her lips and tried to find the right explanation before realizing she didn’t really have one. “We should have. He wanted to marry me.”

“But you didn’t,” Lyra went on quickly, clearly having her own ideas. “You sent me to that nunnery and then father rescued me during the Great Flood and took me to Jordan College. Then, Madame Delamere adopted me.” Dropping her eyes, Lyra added, “Everyone except you wanted me and you’re the only one I _wanted_ to want me.”

“Lyra,” she began, knowing a delicate line was drawn between them and if she said the wrong thing, she’d shatter the small opportunity she had. “I was... I was selfish, Lyra. I was so young and I didn’t make the right choice and even if I had... it wouldn’t have been good for either of us.”

Lyra stared up at the ceiling and she could see the clench of her jaw as she withdrew from her touch. “I don’t care. I’d have rather had you even if you were awful.”

Her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest. This was the problem; all the feelings and failures that came with caring about other people. She couldn’t handle them; couldn’t handle being needed nor needing to be needed. For her to depend upon Lyra’s wanting of her was such an averse feeling to how she’d lived her entire life.

“The night you were born,” she offered, attempting to keep her voice in check. “I was alone. The Costa nurse was there, but when you were born, it was just you and me and... I’d never been more terrified.”

Lyra turned to look at her, her scar wrinkled. “You were terrified of me?”

“When she placed you in my arms, I just... You were so small and I didn’t know how to stop you from crying. I felt like I was already failing and that I would hurt you.”

“So, instead of trying, you just threw me away. You didn’t love me.”

Suddenly, wanting to evade that word, she shook her head. “Lyra-“

“Do you love Lynx more than me?” she said very quickly, like she needed to know before she dissolved then and there.

“Of course not,” she denied, picking herself up and laying her hand to Lyra’s arm. “I... Lyra, I didn’t know how to show love to anyone. I honestly thought the best thing for you was to grow up away from me, so I couldn’t taint you.”

“Do you love me now?”

For the whisper to be so soft, so innocent and full of hope, it absolutely shredded her resolve.

“Lyra,” she murmured, wrapping an arm around her daughter and drawing her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve always loved you.”

There was a tremble to the small form of her child as she turned her face into her and then the presence of tears on her neck sent her further down the path she’d been avoiding for some time.

“I promise it’s going to be alright,” she whispered, brushing her fingers through Lyra’s hair as she wrapped both arms around her. “Everything’s going to be better; I’ll be better.”

“I just want you to want me,” Lyra cried, fingers tangling in her nightgown like she could almost squeeze affection and love out of her if she only clung tight enough.

“I do,” she promised, setting her chin on Lyra’s head as she rubbed what she hoped was a soothing hand up and down her back. “You have to believe I always have.”

The breathless shudders kept on for a few more minutes, but Lyra didn’t speak again, leaving her to fight discomfort as she tried her best to do what she thought was right and simply hold her weeping daughter.

It felt... odd. And, yet, right. There’d never been a time she’d just held Lyra. Hugged, yes, but never held, comforted. One glance at their daemons entwined on the floor furthered that offsetting, yet warm feeling; Pan’s ermine form snuggled into Stel’s neck as Oz ran his fingers over his white fur. 

After a while, when Lyra finally stilled, her breathing evening out, she felt Asriel murmur into her hair. “Is she asleep?”

“Yes,” she whispered, as his hand smoothed up her arm and over Lyra. “I don’t think she believes that I love her.”

“What was it you said to me once?” he asked, rubbing his leg against hers. “Words are fickle things. It’s best to let your actions speak.”

“And what would you suggest I do to show her that?”

It had taken a decade to admit she loved Asriel out loud. Surely, words should be good enough for Lyra.

“Spend time doing what she likes.” His mouth was warm on the back of her neck as he laughed. “Go climb a tree or something she enjoys.”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to throw rocks at children.”

He laughed and settled around her. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“I’m sure,” she murmured softly, adjusting her arms around Lyra to find a more comfortable position between them.

* * *

Heels clicking along the floor, she paused a moment at the cafe entrance before spotting what she’d come for.

Meandering through the tables, she breathed in the scent of the various coffees and cakes.

After managing to get both Asriel and Lyra out of bed, she’d seen to Lynx and taken care of some paperwork for MacPhail before deciding to nip her latest problem straight away. With Lyra returning to school in the morning, she did a bit of digging in the hopes of relieving some of that pressure before a more permanent solution could be found.

“Hello, Charlotte,” she greeted, coming to stand over the fair haired woman who’s head jerked up, eyes wide.

“M-Marisa,” she stammered, gaze flickering around before she pushed an uncomfortable smile to her face. “What a surprise.”

“Oh, surely you were expecting it,” she said, voice taking on a musical note as she took an uninvited seat across from the woman.

“Well, I-“

“Since our daughters have become such...” She lulled her head side to side. “Playful schoolmates.”

Charlotte bristled, reaching for her napkin to wipe the corners of her mouth. It brought a flicker of pleasure to have the woman already eating out of her hand.

“Now, tell me, Charlotte, how is Sally? It’s been some time since we’ve visited.”

“Whatever you want, Marisa, I can’t help you.” She straightened her shoulders. “My daughter is traumatized from the entire incident of what your little animal did.”

“I suppose we’ve downgraded from bastard, then?” she asked, smile never wavering before she tilted her head in thought. “Or is that an upgrade? I can never be sure when the definitions can be so vastly misconstrued.”

Charlotte huffed as her daemon made a small squawk. “She attacked my daughter-“

“Yes, she did.” She interjected, keeping the woman’s words few. “And after I explained to her that legitimacy doesn’t really count for much when it comes to brains or original thought, she felt so guilty for lashing out at someone so magnificently inferior to her.”

“Oh, Marisa,” Charlotte cooed, a bit of smugness creeping into her features. “You’ve always thought yourself so smart, so much better than all the rest of us when all that time you really were nothing more than a common whore.”

Sitting back in her seat, she took a moment to measure Charlotte. The woman really was weak minded. When it came time to shine, she tended to devolve into careless name calling rather than rising to the challenge.

“Is that what you teach your daughter, Charlotte? When you’re down, just think of the worst name you can call someone and pray your desperate grasp for power stings enough for them to quit?”

“The truth does tend to sting, Marisa. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Oh, dear Charlotte, it’s not _me_ you should worry about,” she mused, leaning forward with a smile. “You see, my husband is, well how can I put this...  _enraged_ at his beloved daughter being so under appreciated. And speaking of stinging truth, I imagine Brant will be receiving a visit regarding his less than flattering affiliations soon. I believe his vice is horses... isn’t it?”

The visit from Asriel was a lie, but Charlotte didn’t need to know that. His infamous temper was enough leverage for her to skate by on. Plus, an advantage of being at odds with someone who was climbing the political ladder was that skeletons tended to appear quicker than usual and Brant’s record when it came to pilfering to cover his gambling problems had reached her ear.

“The-“ Charlotte stammered, a blush forming in her cheeks as she glanced around the cafe again. “You can’t-“

“You see, Charlotte,” she said, leaning in close. “My bastard is my highest priority. There’s very little I wouldn’t do to see her thriving and happy. As a mother, I’m sure you can appreciate that.” She pushed herself up and laid a few coins on the table. “Have another coffee on me while you think on that, darling.”

* * *

“Thank you,” she said, taking the offered hand and standing from the car.

Oz ran ahead of her as she made her way up the front steps, checking her watch to see how long it was until dinner and wondering if Asriel was back from his visit to Jordan. Watching Charlotte cower had set her mood just right and she’d like nothing more than a good, hard fuck to settle the delicious simmer it had created in her belly before dinner.

A sly grin crept to her face at the thought of it. When she was just about to head inside, Oz growled and took off toward the far side of the house.

Laughter caught her ear when she paused to consider him and she followed the sound around the corner. Just beyond the gardens and down the hill sat Lyra and Roger on the edge of the dock, each with a fishing pole hanging out over the water.

Allowing a smile to touch her lips, she made her way down the hill, careful not to catch her heels in the rocks along the path.

“Do you think you’ll like school better, tomorrow?”

Lyra shrugged her shoulders. “Doubtful, but I’m not gonna let them run me off.”

“You’re gonna get expelled,” Roger sighed, casting his line again. “You can’t help yourself.”

“I won’t get caught doing a thing,” Lyra replied hotly. “Besides, Headmaster Archer is too scared of my mother to expel me. He looked like a worm on a hook when he was here yesterday.”

“I wouldn’t test that theory,” she said, letting them know she was behind them.

Two sets of dark hair spun, eyes wide and mouths open.

Keeping her expression smooth, she lifted an eyebrow and said, “To be fair, I thought he looked more like a fly caught in a web.”

Lyra laughed while Roger paled, his eyes on Oz as he settled beside Pan, who was peeking over the edge of the dock in the form of a mink. “I’m sorry, Lady Belacqua. I didn’t mean to keep Lyra out. I-“

“You’re fine, Roger,” she said, reassuring the boy before he got himself too worked up. “I just arrived home and wanted to see if we were having fish for dinner.”

Lyra frowned as she leaned and looked into the bucket. “Not if father’s eating.”

Before she could reply, Roger jumped up. “I should go. She’ll have my hide if I’m late. Bye, Lyra.”

“Bye.”

As the boy scrambled past her and up the hill, his daemon taking flight over head, she turned back to Lyra who was looking up at her oddly.

“What’s wrong?”

Lyra shrugged, scratching her nose as she turned back to the water. “You don’t usually come outside. Am I in trouble?”

She raised an eyebrow as she walked to the end of the dock and crossed her arms. “I don’t know. Have you done anything today that would warrant punishment?”

A brief flash of worry passed over Lyra’s face before she grinned. “You’re not going to trick me into admitting anything.”

Finally smiling, she eased down beside Lyra and hung her legs over the dock, careful not to rip her slacks on any loose splinters.

“Hmm, well,” she replied, leaning back on her hands. “I suppose whatever you’ve done will remain a secret, then.”

At the lack of response, she looked at her daughter to find her frowning again prompting a laugh from her. “What?”

“You’re going to get your clothes dirty.”

The way she said it may as well have been a reprimand. “Its a good thing I have a couple of closets full of more then, isn’t it?” Shaking her head, she laughed and took in the worn overalls Lyra was wearing. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You ruin at least one good dress a week.”

Lyra continued to eye her for a minute before she shrugged and held out her pole. “Have you ever fished?”

“No,” she chuckled, glancing at the can of worms between them. “I can’t say I have.”

“Never?” Lyra seemed confused. “What did you do when you were my age?”

“I... read a lot,” she said, lulling her head back and forth. “Played the piano and then read some more.”

Lyra groaned, “Sounds thrilling.” She then looked at her, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. “I would have definitely dunked you in the fountain.”

“Lyra!” she exclaimed, eyes wide.

“What?” She giggled, shrugging her shoulders. “You don’t sound like you were any fun at all.”

“I had fun,” she defended, turning her head up. “I tricked Marcel into all sorts of trouble.”

“Is that why he doesn’t like you now?”

Chuckling, she lifted her hair off her shoulders, the heat causing her neck to perspire, and tied it behind her in what she was sure was a half hazard bun. “Marcel doesn’t like anyone.”

“I know,” Lyra said, tugging at the pole to drag the cork a bit. “He really doesn’t like me. He tried to get Madame Delamere to give me away once, but she wouldn’t.”

Intrigued, she stared at Lyra who’s gaze was out on the water. “When was that?”

“A long time ago. I think I was six. I was hiding in the garden and heard him talking to someone.”

“Well, I’m glad he didn’t get his way,” she offered before laughing. “You little spy.”

Lyra giggled and gave another tug. “Look!”

Leaning over, just as Lyra lifted her pole, she spotted the fish being hauled out of the water. “You’re quite good at that.”

“Tony Costa taught me when I won a bet,” she said, unhooking the small fish and tossing it in the bucket. “I know how to clean them and everything.”

“Well, I image you’re the only girl at St. Catherine’s with such a skill,” she commented, observing with a measure of unease as Lyra hooked another worm.

“All those girls know how to do is curl their hair and try to not fall down in their heels.” The disgust in Lyra’s voice could not be missed. “And all they want to do is grow up, get married, and have babies.”

Biting back a laugh, she asked, “You don’t want to get married and have babies?”

“No, I want to go on adventures like father,” she said firmly. “To the North and see armored bears.”

“You’re not like most girls.”

“Neither are you,” Lyra said, turning to her with a serious look. “You’re really smart. Will you teach me?”

Tilting her head, she asked, “To be smart?”

“Not just smart,” Lyra added, bobbing her head back and forth. “People do what you want. Father says you wield power over them.”

“Ah,” she murmured, eyes back on the water. “Babies would be easier.”

“I’d rather intimidate people, but if you like babies so much you should have another,” Lyra commented. “So, Lynx will have someone to play with.”

Laughing, she scratched her nose. “I’m not sure that’s going to happen.”

“Why not?” Lyra asked, curious eyes finding hers. “Don’t you want another baby?”

“Why mess with perfection?” she countered, running a hand over Lyra’s mussed hair. “You and Lynx are all I need.”

  
Seeming unmoved, Lyra sighed as though speaking to a child, “Because by the time he’s old enough to play with, _I’ll_ be too old to play with him. He’ll need someone to spend time with him.”

  
“You get along just fine.”

Lyra shrugged, a heavy breath slipping through her nose. ”Sometimes, I get lonely, especially when you and father are gone. I wish Lynx was my age so we could keep each other company.”

A moment of deep regret crept up her spine as she watched Lyra tugging at her pole.

  
  
“Lyr-“

“Lady Belacqua,” Thorold called from up the hill, drawing both their gazes. “You have a visitor.”

“Wonder who that could be?” she said, lifting her feet and pushing herself up. Then, with a glance at Lyra, she said, “It’s nearly dinner time. Start packing up.”

“Alright.”

Heading up the hill, she quickly went through the list of who it could be. Most guests who arrived were expected with very few just showing up. And as far as she knew, Asriel wasn’t home to receive anyone there for him.

Thorold was waiting just inside the patio doors, his face set in a rather panicked way.

“Who is it, Thorold?” she asked, smoothing out her blouse while knowing her hair was a mess.

“Hello, Marisa.”

Not expecting someone this far into the house, her gaze jerked to the bay window overlooking the garden to find familiar dark eyes watching her.

“Lady Belacqua,” she started, throwing a quick glance to Thorold, who was backing out of the room with an apologetic smile.

Clearing her throat, she turned back to Asriel’s mother, a woman she hadn’t seen, nor cared to see, in nine years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the barest outline of ideas about where this fic is going, but the next chapter or two literally came from a random flashback I wrote of Masriel funeral sex and it went from there lol.


	14. Take What You Need

_ Gently closing the door behind her, she paused when she found him sitting at the window, staring out it, a half full glass of amber liquid hanging low at his side where Stel rested, head in his lap as she spoke in low whispers. _

_ The two of them looked almost like a painting, all majestic and beautiful, luring the eye and capturing it. _

_ “People are asking for you,” she informed, turning the lock before she strode across the room. _

_ “My mother thought it would be best if I gathered myself. Apparently, I’m being an asshole,” he said, voice low and gravelly, without looking at her while Oz and Stel ventured off into their own little world. “What is he doing here?” _

_ Dropping her purse on the desk, she said, “He wanted to pay his respects.” _

_ “You mean he wanted to gather a few political points by inserting himself where he doesn’t belong?” he asked, lifting the glass to his mouth. “He didn’t know my brother, nor did you for that matter.” _

_ “I know you,” she answered, pausing beside him, gaze flickering over the line of cars along the driveway. “Your brother was well known and thought of as evidenced by the crowd.” _

_ “He’s a fucking vulture,” he scoffed, holding his glass toward the window. “They’re all vultures, circling to see our family grieve, to see what scraps they can uncover.” _

_ With an exhausted sigh, she stepped up beside him and laid a hand to his neck, fingers brushing through the dark hair along his nape. “Ignore them. They’re nothing.” _

_ “If it had been me instead, would you have been one of the vultures here, today? Would you have even shed a tear?” _

_ The words caught in her throat, leaving her hand to still. It wasn’t that she expected him to know the answer so much as how deeply it cut for him to think his value so little. She’d given him no reason to suspect she’d care, but it still bothered her to think he didn’t just... know. _

_ When she didn’t respond, he turned to her, face tight as he grasped her waist, fresh anger flashing in his eyes as he jerked her down onto his lap and captured her lips between his own, his teeth clashing against hers as he pried her mouth open. _

_ If asked, she’d admit it seemed like he was attempting to punish her, his kiss bruising as one hand snaked into her curls, twisting the style she’d taken an hour to fix, while the other found its way beneath her dress. _

_ “I don’t have time,” she murmured, turning her face the best she could to avoid his onslaught. _

_ “Would you care, Marisa?” He withdrew his hand to snatch her chin sternly between his fingers, the bite of his fingertips triggering a flinch. “Or are you like them? Jumping at the opportunity to see me fall?” _

_ Breath coming short, she shook her head, senses invaded and muddled as his fingers licked at places she shouldn’t be allowing right now. “No. No, I wouldn’t-“ _

_ The growl that came from his chest was nothing less than predatory as he found his feet, taking her with him and shoving her into the desk. _

_ “You’re a fucking liar, Marisa. I’m just something to pass the time, remember?” His hands began making quick work of his belt. “You think I’m weak because I need you.” _

_ Eyes on the rage swirling behind his blue gaze, she attempted to steady herself. “This isn’t the time.” _

_ As though she’d spoken to thin air, he began roughly pushing her dress up, then, his mouth found the pulse point on her neck as he lifted her to the edge of the desk and eased between her thighs, her underwear a lost cause as he snapped and discarded them. _

_ “Asriel,” she gasped as he wasted little time and pushed inside her, achingly filling her as she instinctively wrapped herself around him, managing to lose a heel in the process. _

_ His movements were frenzied, desperate; hands all over her as he murmured her name over and over like a prayer; likely the closest he’d ever gotten to one. _

_ And she let him. _

_ Fingers tangled in his hair, she moaned and sighed for him, making herself pliant to his touch as he poured all his pain and rage into her body. It wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences, but it was all she knew to do for him._

_ Asriel’s brutish nature was the one thing she could rely on, letting him use sex to express himself when words failed. It was easier than words. _

_ “Careful,” she whispered when his teeth nipped at her jaw sharply enough that she flinched away from him. “Edw-“ _

_ “Don’t say his fucking name,” he growled, slamming into her so hard the desk jolted, sending a few of its items clanging to the floor. “Only mine.” _

_ The bruising along her thighs would be difficult to hide she thought absently as he crushed her to the desk, fingers buried in her hips where he held her in place. She began making mental plans on how to best be diligent in keeping from revealing herself to Edward for a few days with the way he was unrelentingly searing her flesh. _

_ “Asriel,” she breathlessly murmured into his cheek, slipping her hands under his shirt and up his back, her nails scratching at the muscles there. “I have to be able to walk out of here.” _

_ “No,” he snarled, turning into her, his blue eyes burning into hers, daring her. “You’re staying with me tonight.” _

_ “You know I can’t.” She hooked a leg around his hip, pulling him deeper in the hopes of quelling his anger for a moment. “There’s no way-“ _

_ The deliberately angled press of his hips sparked a wave of pleasure in her belly that crashed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, her mouth falling open as her head fell back. _

_ “Go on,” he growled, following her as she leaned back against the desk, hands splayed on either side of her, every thrust now followed by a wash of hot breath on her chin and throat. “Cum.” _

_ Clutching at the front of his shirt, her fingers twisted the material into a ball as she rode it out, holding him steadfastly as she arched up off the desk, her thighs clenched around his hips. _

_ His erratic grunts in her ear were enough to make her lose her mind for a moment as she blinked up at the ceiling, her ears ringing with the sound of his hips and knees still steadily drumming into the desk. _

_ “Fuck,” she breathed as she finally caught his eyes, filled to the brim with all that sadness and anger, and drowned in them. _

_ Unfisting her hands from his shirt, she slid them around his side and beneath the material again, feeling the tension in his muscles begin to coil as they flexed beneath her fingertips. _

_ “Marisa,” he groaned, fingers locking in a vice around her thigh and waist. “I need-“ _

_ “It’s alright,” she murmured, using a hand to leverage against the desk and lift enough to brush her lips to his throat. “Take what you need.” _

_ When he came undone, his seed pouring out over her thighs, his head fell to her shoulder as he collapsed into her, spent and worn. _

_ The sweat beaded on his brow cooled against her skin as they breathed, heartbeats drumming against each other until his weight became heavy and laughter from beyond the door grabbed her attention. _

_ “Asriel,” she whispered, drawing her hand up his back and resting at the nape of his neck. “We have to-“ _

_ “He took my place on the airship,” he whispered into the column of her neck, voice cracking. “I was supposed to be the one-“ _

_ Hands cupping his cheeks, she let her body say what she couldn’t bring herself to say. She kissed him, soft, softer than she ever had before. _

_ His breath staggered as he leaned into her, arms encasing her as he pulled her up to wrap around him at the edge of the desk, burying his head against her neck. _

_ The flutter of his chest as he clutched her to himself snapped something inside her. Though, it was lost to her exactly what that something might be. The vulnerability he was displaying would normally send her for the door, but she found she couldn’t abandon him, not when two days prior her entire world had crumbled as word had reached her ears that the Belacqua heir had been on board the airship that had crashed outside of London. _

_ Edward had mentioned it so nonchalantly over breakfast, like it was meager scraps of news. She supposed she should be grateful he was so unobservant as she’d forced herself to count to one hundred before she’d excused herself from the table to empty the contents of her stomach in the master bathroom. _

_ Fingers threading through his hair, she closed her eyes and held him while one hand stroked up and down his back in an attempt to help him steady his breathing. _

_ After some time, he whispered, “I just want to forget.” _

_ Urging his face up, she ran a hand over his cheek, eyes dancing over his features, taking in the lost look, like a little boy remiss of his mother. “It’s been a long day. You should rest.” _

_ “No,” he murmured before leaning forward and capturing her in a kiss, one far from the softness she’d offered him. “I just need you.” _

_ As he descended to her neck, she sighed and tilted her head back to permit him, eyes fluttering as she gazed at the ceiling, her fingers threading through his hair as the flickers of pleasure began licking at her belly again. _

_ It wasn’t lost on her that she’d been gone longer than she should have. Edward would be looking for her soon. She never should have placed herself in this position, but when Asriel had caught her eye across the room, she’d nearly drowned in the absolute devastation in his eyes as well as the overwhelming relief that he was alive, that he was breathing well enough to be angry with her for standing at Edward’s side. Before she’d thought better of herself, she’d followed him like a puppet on strings up to the second floor study. _

_ “Come with me to my bed,” he murmured into her cheek. “Let me have all of you, tonight.” _

_  
There was never a time she resented the ring on her finger more, the tie that bound her to Edward, when all she wanted was Asriel; his body, his heart, his everything. She wanted to belong to him as desperately as he wanted her, to possess and be possessed by him._

_ “Asriel- fuck,” she moaned, eyes falling to his hand wedged between her thighs again.  _

_ “I want to taste you,” he went on, tongue running over her pulse. “I’ll do whatever you want, my love. Just stay with me.” _

_ On the verge of giving him whatever he asked so long as he never took his hand from her, the click of the door suddenly opening halted her. “Asriel, are you in here-“ _

_ The heartbeats that followed were the longest in her existence as she went stiff in his arms and turned her head to meet his mothers’ surprised expression. Bereft of words, she found her breath snatched from her lungs as the woman stood stone still for a moment before her shock fell away to be replaced with a sigh as she closed the door; the door she was positive she’d locked. _

_ “Mrs. Coulter,” Madeline said stiffly, folding her hands together as the gray wolf at her side circled the room. “I believe your husband is looking for you.” _

_ Sure she’d never been in a more compromising position in her life, she shoved him back, dislodging his hand from the place it was still lingering, and fumbled to adjust her dress before slipping off the desk. _

_ There was a long moment where thought was lost to her as she slowed her breathing down to something resembling decent as her eyes tracked the wolf as he moved behind her, stalking her daemon who was curled around Asriel’s leg of all places. _

_ Asriel, for his part, leaned against the desk, huffing like a petulant child as he fixed himself. _

_ It was Stel who bared her fangs at the wolf when he got close to her daemon, moving to stand between them. _

_ “What are you thinking, Asriel?” Madeline snapped. “A married woman at your brother’s funeral?” _

_ Head bowed while he relooped his belt, he groaned, “Mother-“ _

_ “Of all the things you’ve done, all the messes your father and I have had to clean up...” Madeline looked between them and sighed like they were a couple of teenagers. “Today of all days... This is the height of disrespect.” _

_ “Disrespect?” he echoed, shoving from the desk and tossing a hand toward the door. “I’m supposed to respect those pompous fools down there?” _

_ “You’re supposed to respect your mother enough to not be committing blatant adultery at your brother and sister in-laws’ funeral.” Madeline gestured between them, dark eyes blazing. “Where is either of your senses?” _

_ There was a pause where mother and son remained locked in a battle of wills, one long enough for her to gather herself and begin searching for her heel, only to be caught by Asriel’s fingers wrapping around her wrist and his agitated voice. _

_ “Marisa-“ _

_ “Don’t,” she warned, jerking her hand from him, eyes daring him as the weight of their predicament began to tighten around her throat. “Just don’t.” _

_ However, his anger swiveled to her as he caught her again and turned her from his mother’s sight, hands clutching at her neck as he growled, “You’re not going to leave me.” _

_ “Asriel,” she breathed, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, nails biting into his flesh as she punctuated every word. “Let me go.” _

_ He blinked at her, eyes flickering all over her face, his anger steadily shifting into that lost look, like a little boy amidst his first no. Next, he was kneeling to gather her heel and gently placing it back on her foot. Then, he looked up at her, crystal gaze softened as his hands slid to hold her close by the back of her knees. “Please, don’t go.” _

_ Even as her heart twisted, she backed away. “Take care of it.” _

_ With that, she brushed past his mother, the woman’s dark eyes never leaving her as she slipped out the door, while purposefully failing to close it all the way. _

_ “Well, are you going to take care of it, Asriel?” _

_ “Mother,” he replied, voice nearly hoarse. “Don’t make something out of this.” _

_ “What are you thinking?” Madeline asked, tone more forgiving than scolding. “Her husband is- an affair with her could destroy you, destroy our family.”  _

_ “I’m aware.” _

_ “Oh, of course, you are,” she replied, voice harshening. “Did you take one moment to consider what this thoughtless fling would do-“ Madeline paused and she felt herself straining to hear as the woman’s voice lowered. “What’s that look?” _

_ Asriel sighed and she could just imagine the agitated look on his face. “What look?” _

_ “It’s not a fling,” she said, voice shifting into something more along the lines of disbelief. “Does she feel the same?” _

_ The scoff was clear as day as his steps became heavier as he paced further into the room. “Don’t be dramatic.” _

_ “Asriel Belacqua, you will not lie to your mother,” Madeline went on, heels clicking again the wood floor. “I’ve watched you flit from woman to woman like a dog in heat. You’ve been home for an abnormal amount of time these last few months. I’d wondered what it was and it seems I have my answer. So, tell me, how long?” _

_ A glass clinked and then she heard it. The proverbial nail in her coffin. “Eight months.” _

_ Footsteps approaching drew her attention from the conversation within, forcing her to take the next available door and find her way to a bathroom. _

_ When she found herself in front of the mirror, she clutched the edge of the sink and took in her smeared lipstick and loose curls as well as the stickiness clinging to her thighs. That was to say nothing of the red splotches along her neck and shoulders. _

_ “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she groaned as she kicked the cabinet and pushed herself away, feeling her heart begin to race away again as she backed against the door and brought a hand to her head. _

_ A low whimper brought her eyes blazing to her daemon, who flinched away like she’d already slapped him. _

_ “You fucking useless-“ _

_ The knob turned behind her, bringing her up short. _

_ “It’s occupied,” she snapped, disregarding her daemon and moving to the sink again in an attempt to correct the reckless mistake she’d just made. _

_ When she finally made it back to the main room, Edward was speaking with someone whose name she didn’t care to remember. As she edged up next to him, she drew what she prayed was a pleasant smile to her face to detract from the fact that she’d used half her makeup covering the marks Asriel had left in his quest to ruin her life. _

_ “He was a good man, honorable,” Edward said, taking the man’s hand. “So few men have the integrity Asher demonstrated.” _

_ Leave it to Edward to overplay his sympathy, she thought, glancing behind them to see if mother and son had returned, relief washing through her when she didn’t see them. If she could manage to get Edward out before they- _

_ “Forgive me,” came Madeline’s voice, snapping her gaze around to find the woman to have appeared out of nowhere to stand next to Edward. She then reached out and took her hand, fingers latching around her so tightly it would have taken her other hand to jerk loose. “Perhaps, I could borrow Mrs. Coulter for a moment?” _

_ Taken aback by the boldness of the woman as she failed to wait for a response, she kept a straight face and allowed herself to be led through the terrace doors and out into the garden. _

_ When they found themselves far enough from any questioning ears, Madeline finally released her and stood a few feet away, measuring her as closely as the wolf at her feet. _

_  
She’d never felt so inspected, even by her own mother. The way her gaze journeyed over her, deep brown eyes clearly waiting for her to falter, was unnerving._

_ “What do you think you’re doing?” _

_ An intentionally shy laugh slipped through her lips. “Forgive me, Lady Belacqua, but I’m a bit lost. I was simply providing comfort to a friend.” _

_ “Comfort?” Madeline lifted a graceful eyebrow and nodded, the smooth line of her jaw tightening. “I see.” She took a step closer, gaze hardening as her eyes flickered over her. “I put one son in the ground today; I’ll not bury another because some pretty, socialite wife got bored.” _

_ Running her fingers along a white rose, she allowed the tip of a thorn to press into her finger, focusing all her chaos on that one point, as she met the dark eyes of the older woman with a sweet as pie smile. _

_ “I believe you’ve gotten the wrong idea about Asriel and I. We’re friends, nothing more.” _

_ “A woman like you doesn’t have friends, Marisa. I know who you are.” _

_ “Oh,” she laughed more mockingly this time, noting the familiar smugness with which he was used to being met. “I doubt that very much.” _

_ “Most look at you and see a pretty face,” Madeline said, brown eyes swirling. “But you’re a bright girl, intoxicating to most men with half a brain. I also know to have secured a marriage with Edward Coulter, you must have many other attributes befitting of someone able to play the game of power because who would have chosen him, a preening peacock with meager ambitions, other than someone able to recognize and mold that potential power. I’m sure what you’ve done to get him where he is, the sacrifices you’ve made, has been great and thankless.” _

_ “Hmm.” The thorn drew blood to her finger as all pseudo innocence drained from her face and stance. “It seems you have it all worked out.” _

_ “You will end this with Asriel,” Madeline warned. “Beneath that harsh exterior lies the potential of a good man. I’ll not see my son destroyed for a pathological liar.” _

_ “But of course,” she replied, coy smile creeping into her features again. “You’ve had a long day, Madeline. It’s only practical that you’d be stressed under these circumstances.” _

_ Madeline scoffed and twirled a hand between them. “I see why he thinks he’s in love with you. You’re as insufferable as he.” _

_ Allowing the words to roll off her, she took a step toward the woman, close enough to touch. “I’m sorry for your loss. I do hope you find a way to manage it without drawing too much attention to yourself or Asriel. It’d be such a shame for people to forget one son in favor of the other at a time like this.” _

_ As she turned to leave, she found the wolf blocking her path and she was struck with the knowledge of where Asriel got his intimidation factor. _

_ “My son is the most important person in the world to me,” Madeline said, voice hardened. “You have my word that this affair is as good as over.” _

_ Nails pressing into the prick along her finger, she turned to Madeline and looked her directly in the eyes, a sly grin crossing her lips as tingles of pain spiked along spine. “Words are such fickle things. Perhaps, you should allow your son to use his own words when it comes to denying my... comfort.” _

_ With that, she brushed past the wolf and headed back toward her husband. _

“This is... unexpected,” she said, forcing a cheery note to her voice as Madeline stared out the window. “Asriel hasn’t mentioned-“

“A mother doesn’t have to announce herself to visit her son, now, does she, Marisa?” Madeline cut in, tone clipped, as she nodded toward the window. “I suppose that’s my granddaughter down there.”

Pursing her lips, she gave a half glance to the golden eyes watching her from Madeline’s side. “I’m afraid Asriel isn’t here. He left early this morning to visit Jordan College.”

“Oh, Thorold said as much,” Madeline informed, eyes never leaving Lyra. “And that he should be back any time.”

“Of course,” she said, a light laugh escaping her as she moved further into the room, gathering herself for what was surely to be more of the same tension they’d always shared.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home,” Madeline commented, finally looking at her, dark gaze sweeping over her like she were a misplaced glass of sour milk. “Are you enjoying the perks of being Lady Belacqua, yet?”

Drawing her lips tight, she rather dramatically held out her hands. “Well, I do what I can what with my experience as being some pretty, socialite wife.”

“I’m sure you do, Marisa,” Madeline drawled, gesturing to the sofa. “Shall we sit?”

Acquiescing, she took a seat across from Madeline as Oz jumped to the back of the sofa, his eyes tracking the wolf. There weren’t many people she’d ever admit being intimidated by, if she admitted to any at all. However, Asriel’s mother was at the very top of the list. Her elegance and quick tongue had few rivals and added to that was the fact that she was the one woman Asriel would ever hesitate to choose over her.

“Should I be flattered you haven’t redecorated?” Madeline asked, eyes flickering over the room. “I would imagine your taste to be a more modernized ‘look at me’ type of flashy.”

“We’ve only been here a few months.”

“Oh, yes,” Madeline smiled, like she was privy to all the facts of them. “I must admit I was a bit baffled when I read about the wedding in the paper rather than through an invitation.”

“It was all a bit of a whirlwind,” she explained, adding a bit of blissfulness to her tone while crossing her legs. “You weren’t in the country and we didn’t want to wait any longer.”

“Yes, a second unplanned pregnancy will put a rush on things.”

Nails biting into her palms, she gave an easy smile. “I couldn’t possibly know what you mean.”

“It’s good to see you’ve changed, Marisa.” Madeline reclined in her seat, folding her hands in her lap. “Grown up and beyond the petty lies.”

Thorold’s reappearance halted her response as he ushered one of the servants in. “Your tea, Lady Belacqua.”

“Thank you, Thorold,” Madeline exclaimed, sitting forward and smiling brightly at the man. “You’ve always been so intuitive. I may have to steal you away from Asriel.”

The girl set the tray down in front of Madeline before wordlessly backing out of the room as Thorold bowed his head.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, my lady.”

“Care for some tea, Marisa?” Madeline asked, a glint of smugness in her eyes as she lifted a cup.

“I-“

Heavy footsteps brought her eyes around to the patio where Lyra burst through the open doors and ground to a halt at seeing them, eyes wide as they flickered between them.

“Oh, sorry,” she stammered, brushing her messy, tangled hair from her eyes.

“You must be Lyra,” Madeline practically sang, setting her tea down and beckoning her over. “Come, come, let me see you.”

Lyra frowned, eyes looking the woman up and down before meeting hers as though asking if she had to go through with the request.

Forcing a smile, she gestured to Madeline and explained, “Lyra, this is your grandmother, Asriel’s mother.”

With a perplexed nod, Lyra made her way around the sofa to Madeline’s side, her frown only lessening slightly as curiosity set in. “I didn’t know I had another grandmother.”

“Oh, look at you,” Madeline said, taking Lyra’s hands and holding them up and out. “Well, you have Asriel’s looks.”

“That’s what everyone says,” Lyra offered with a sigh. “It’s unfortunate, really.”

“Not at all, but I see you have my eyes.” Madeline noted. “You’re just beautiful and so _skinny._ Are they feeding you enough?”

“I eat all the time,” Lyra laughed. “Father says I’m going to eat us out of house and home.”

  
It was almost like looking at twin mirrors. Lyra could have been a younger version of Madeline, their eyes and skin the same shade as well as their stature. It was enough to make a possessive urge sweep through her.

“Speaking of eating, darling, go wash up for dinner,” she said, ready to slice this moment in half. “Your father should be home soon.”

Lyra glanced at her, her brow knitting when their eyes met before turning and asking, “Are you staying for dinner?”

“If that’s alright with your mother.”

When Lyra looked back to her hopefully, she pursed her lips and said, “Of course.”

“Cool,” Lyra exclaimed before turning and starting to run away, forcing her to reach out a hand to catch her.

“Walk,” she quipped, drawing Lyra close before smiling. “And wash well. You smell like you’ve not bathed in days.”

Lyra giggled and darted a kiss to her cheek before dashing from the room.

As soon as Lyra was gone, Madeline said, “I see now why you cast her off on Asriel so quickly. There’s certainly no denying him in her.”

The amount of effort if took to control her expression should have come with a reward. “She adores him.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Madeline replied, taking up her tea again. “I remember how delighted he was with her when she was little. It’s such a shame they weren’t permitted more time together.”

“I believe that was Asriel’s choice,” she corrected, done with the petty accusations.

To blame her for Asriel’s lack of fatherhood was outlandish. She’d not even been present during that time period.

“Was it?” Madeline asked, brow lifted. “Well, that goes to show how little you really know him, Marisa.”

Anger lapped at her as she nearly snapped a hand to her daemon, who was growling low. “I’d say I know him fairly well.”

“So, you know why he chose to stay away from Lyra?” Madeline went on, tilting her head to measure her. “Why he allowed her to be adopted?”

Unuse to being out of her depth concerning Asriel, her mind raced for the answer, but found nothing in her defenses.

“Lady Belacqua,” Ms. Taylor said from the door, carrying in Lynx. “Thorold said you asked for the baby.”

“That would be me, dear,” Madeline said, standing and approaching the woman. “I wanted to meet my grandson.”

“Oh,” Ms. Taylor exclaimed in surprise, eyes darting to her as Madeline held out her arms.

Blood boiling, she gave a curt nod and reached out for that cup of tea, wishing it was something significantly stronger.

“Look at this,” Madeline cooed, rocking Lynx. “He’s just... well, you could certainly deny Asriel in this one.”

The words may well have been barbed and shoved down her throat.

Clutching the tea cup, she said, “Asriel’s very proud.”

“I’m sure he is,” Madeline replied, running a finger over Lynx’s cheek as her wolf came to settle next to her, sniffing at the small daemon, who was snuggled up with Lynx.

“His daemon’s name?”

“Flora,” she answered, itching to take her son. “So, is this all you’re here for? To meet your grandchildren?”

“I wanted to make sure my own son is in good hands,” Madeline replied, gaze still absorbing Lynx.

Steeling herself, she straightened her shoulders and replied, “Asriel is wonderful. He’s never been happier.”

“Yes, well, happiness can be fleeting without a firm foundation, a bond.” Madeline lifted her gaze.“Marriages come and go, but the bond between mother and child, that is unbreakable.” She paused and lulled her head. “I suppose you’ll learn that eventually.”

A sardonic laugh slipped from her. “Are you implying I have no bond with my children? Or Asriel?”

“Oh, Marisa, how could you? You’ve only just decided to play at motherhood like one of your little projects. Who’s to know if you’ll tire of it or not?”

“You have no idea what my relationship with my children or Asriel is like, nor for that matter, is it any of your business.”

“I see and twenty-five years from now when this boy, Lynx, brings some young pretty thing home and she has the audacity to say such a thing to you... well, you’ll just let that slide right by, will you?” Madeline chuckled, her head twisting to look at Lynx again. “Oh, Marisa, I do hope I live long enough to be witness to it.”

“Mine and Asriel’s relationship-“

_“Relationship?_ Oh, I’m fully aware of your... _relationship_ and how much you care about my son.” Madeline eyes narrowed. “As was evidenced by your utter lack of mercy at his trial.”

The fact that she was Asriel’s mother was becoming less and less a good reason not to rip into her.

Thankfully, the sound of the front door opening and closing followed by hushed voices drew her gaze to the foyer where Asriel appeared moments later allowing relief to wash through her.

“Mother,” he greeted, a too bright smile on his lips. “This is... unexpected.”

Madeline practically beamed as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I couldn’t stand another moment of being away after I heard you’ve finally settled down and I had a new grandson.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say settled,” he joked, gaze sweeping to her as he lifted a curious brow. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Oh, no, Marisa and I were simply getting reacquainted.”

He kept her eyes a moment longer then she could stand before she turned her gaze to the window and released the breath she was hoping would suffocate her and end this entire mess.

It wasn’t that she disliked Asriel’s mother, it really wasn’t. The woman was sophisticated and intelligent and could wage word games with the best. The problem was the fact that she wasn’t allowed to treat her as she did everyone else, to set her in her place, and it made her feel absolutely powerless.

“Yes, I can see that.” He sighed before gesturing to Lynx. “And you’ve managed to get your hands on Lynx. You’re lucky. I barely get to hold him with Marisa home.”

“Oh, were you absent, dear?” Madeline asked, tone dripping sweetly.

“I had work,” she answered evenly, catching the woman’s eyes again and allowing the rage beneath to slip ever so slightly. “It took me away for a while.”

“You must be very strong willed. When my boys were born, you couldn’t pry me away from them for months.”

Asriel took a seat next to her, his hand sliding into hers and prying her nails from her palms as he threaded their fingers together. The action both irritated and soothed her.

“Marisa has very important work that only she can see to.”

“Clearly, if she made it her highest priority.”

Asriel cleared his throat. “How was your vacation to America?”

“Wonderful,” she answered, lifting a pointed brow. “I suppose that’s why you failed to inform me that you’d married.”

Asriel shifted uneasily. “It was- Well, we-“

“There is no excuse for your mother to learn of her only living son’s marriage in the paper.” Her eyes flickered to her. “I imagine Marisa’s mother was in attendance?”

“She invited herself,” she answered as evenly as she could. “I could have done without her.”

Madeline’s face contorted in mild disbelief before Asriel cleared his throat and shifted subjects. “How long are you here for, mother?”

“Ready to be rid of me already?” Madeline teased.

“Of course not,” Asriel laughed. “You’re welcome here as long as you like. We could have a room made up for you.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense, you’re family and Lyra would probably love getting to know you. We’ll be happy to have you.” He turned to her. “Right, love?”

The blood throbbing in her ears nearly drowned out his request of a response from her, but the slight flex of his jaw and lift of his brow was enough to encourage her to find one.

“Whatever makes you happy,” she softly replied, knowing she had to maintain her balance and bide her time to allow Madeline to be the one to anger him.

“Excellent,” he went on. “We could-“

“I’m going to go check on Lyra,” she abruptly said, turning to him with a tight smile. “She’s likely distracted and neglecting to get ready.”

When she stood, she hesitated, eyes on Lynx.

“Don’t worry, Marisa. I’m quite good at caring for my boys. You run along now.”

Biting back a reply, she clenched her fists and forced herself to leave the room. She wasn’t sure she actually took another breath until she was at the top of the staircase headed to her own bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be an original character, I found the mother the absolute hardest to write. Thanks for reading!


	15. If I Could Go Back

_ Easing through the shadows along the grounds, she followed Thorold’s direction to the dimly lit dock, taking care with the uneven ground and her less than steady state. The cool evening breeze reminded her this was spur of the moment, lacking the grace her usual plans nearly always contained, and she was without the proper attire to be wandering around the grounds after dark. _

_ When she finally spotted him and Stel at the end of the dock, she paused and wondered for the upteenth time how wise this was. Anyone could be up at the main house, still clinging to the walls to observe the Belacqua moment grief. _

_ Then again, her decision had been made quite some time ago and, with a deep breath, she made her way along the wooden planks and paused a half dozen feet behind him. _

_ “I don’t think your mother likes me.” _

_ While he didn’t turn, Stel had already planted her gaze on her and her daemon, her eyes ever watchful. As she contemplated what to do, she took note of the nearly empty decanter of Tokay beside him as well as the fresh one next to it. _

_ “What do you want?” he asked through a hoarse voice which betrayed his mental state, but did nothing to hide the bite toward her. “I thought you couldn’t tear yourself away?” _

_ “I told Edward I was staying with my mother, tonight.” _

_ “Then, you best head that way,” he replied, lifting his glass toward the water. “You wouldn’t want to keep mother waiting.” _

_ The disgust was evident in his tone, conjuring a sigh from her as she looked up toward the manor, noting the flicker of a few lights still burning in the windows. _

_ “I don’t want you here.” _

_ Ignoring his childishness, she moved to the end of the dock, avoiding the growl of Stel as she laid behind Asriel, golden eyes following her daemon as he eased up to her, tentatively reaching just to stroke her ear. _

_ “The world is full of little disappointments.” _

_ Once she’d settled beside him, rather than hanging her legs over the dark drop, she crossed them and reached for the glass in his hand before tilting it back and downing the remainder of it with a cough. _

_ “That’s strong,” she spluttered, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth and holding the glass out to inspect. _

_ His eyes finally flickered to her, a deep set frown creasing his brow. “My brother’s dead.” _

_“I know,” she whispered, tracking the dark circles under his haunted eyes and the way his shoulders turned in like a giant, wounded bird._

_“And rather than focusing all her grief on that,” he went on, grabbing the glass and refilling it. “My mother’s furious with me.”_

_She held the weight of his gaze and titled her head to the side, itching to reach out and brush the stray, dark strands from his forehead. “I gathered that as well.”_

_“Because I’m in love with a married woman.” He gave a soft shake of his head and lifted the glass to his lips as he chucked lowly. “Care to tell me how my life became so thoroughly fucked?”_

_The chill of the night air was what she blamed her shallow breathing on as she reached out and took the glass back, tossing back the rest of the drink again._

_“You’re ruining my evening of self loathing, Marisa,” he growled, snatching the glass back, glare sharp and narrow. “A man has a right to drown himself in a little misery every once in a while.”_

_A lazy smile touched her lips as she leaned back on her hands, eyes dancing over his disheveled clothes; tie cast off to the side, black shirt wrinkled and untucked. “Your mother told me to stay away from you.”_

_He chuckled and reached for the new decanter. “Which explains your appearance tonight.”_

_“Are you implying I’m so petty as to return to spite her?” When he failed to respond, she shoved at his shoulder, nearly knocking him over altogether. “Answer me.”_

_“Marisa,” he sighed, bowing his head to rub at his eyes. “You’re a spiteful bitch who doesn’t care about anyone outside of herself. Of course, you’re here because of her. I just wish your pettiness could have waited until tomorrow and allowed me one nights reprieve from the drama.”_

_Allowing him a moment of study, she admitted, “Well, I’m not here for her. At least... not solely. I’m here because I’m... happy.”_

_He looked around as if a foreign entity had spoken before settling his perplexed gaze on her. “Happy?”_

_She fingered the edge of a board as she stared out at the night sky’s reflection on the water, the gentle rolling a nice lull._

_“I’m happy your brother’s dead.”_

_“Marisa, I know you’re rather bereft of morals and empathy, but you should know that’s a bit of a taboo thing to say.”_

_Shrugging her shoulders, she replied, “You’re always going on and on about wanting me to be honest and honestly... I’d rather him be dead than you.”_

_A quiet came over them as the water rippling around the dock became the only sound. It left her a moment to allow her thoughts to gather._

_“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, gaze flickering over the many stars glittering over the water. “And I...” she laughed, the sound more manic than light. “I couldn’t breathe and I just kept thinking... the last thing I said to him was that he was nothing... something to pass the time.” When she met his grave face again, she relaxed her shoulders and sighed heavily, “I suppose that makes me a horrible person?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Nodding, she pursed her lips and swallowed against the tight feeling in her chest. She, then, reached for the glass again, needing a distraction from his surprised expression, but was met with air as he held it away from her._

_“Are you drunk?” he abruptly asked. “You’re being extremely unMarisalike.”_

_Rolling her eyes, she quipped, “Perhaps, I had a few glasses of champagne with dinner, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost any control of my faculties.”_

_“Clearly,” he muttered. “Why did you think I was-“_

_“Because we fought and I heard you were leaving,” she cut in quickly. “And then Edward, he-“ She held up a hand as though she could make the words flow better that way. “He said the Belacqua heir had died and I just...”_

_When he made no response, she snatched the glass from his hand and spat, “But, yes, Asriel, my spite has brought me here solely to piss off your mother. I couldn’t possibly be here for you what with my lack of morals and empathy.”_

_The quiet returned and she found herselfwishing she’d not been so weak as to need to see him again, to be sure of her standing. There was also that aching desire again; the one that whispered she needed him, too._

_“Am I ruined?” she asked softly, fingering the facets along the glass, pressing hard against the cut on her finger. “Or are her maternal instincts to protect her child better than my own mother’s?”_

_“I respect my mother,” he whispered, eyes on the water. “She’s always tried to balance duty and her time with us. She’s a good mother. She’ll not reveal your dirty secrets, Marisa.” He chuckled, this time lighter, almost teasing. “At least, not in a way that will implicate me. I can’t promise she won’t make it her mission to ruin you in every other way.”_

_“Does that mean you’re finished with me? Because your mother said so?”_

_“I’m tired of your assumption that I can simply turn off the way I feel about you,” he answered, wiping his eyes. “I wanted to drown in you, today, and you left with_ him.”

_The gentle breeze sent a chill up her spine as she watched him pick at a loose place on a plank, shoulders slumped and head cast down. It was enough to have her easing closer to him, pressing into his side and resting her chin on his shoulder._

_“You can drown in me, now,” she whispered, lightly scratching her nails up and down his spine. “I’m not completely bereft of humanity, Asriel. I lied to him and came back for you.”_

_“My mother says your selfish; that you’re using me.”_

_Brushing her fingers through his hair, she pressed closer, stealing his warmth. “You already know all of that. I believe it’s fair to say you know me better than anyone.”_

_“My complicated, little monkey,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her into his lap, which she gladly allowed, laying her arms around his waist. “What am I going to do with you?”_

_With a laugh, she brushed her lips to his. “Whatever you want. Though...” she trailed off, bringing a finger to his mouth, dipping between his lips ever so slightly. “I do think you mentioned something about tasting me.”_

_His eyes tracked her as he brushed her hair over her ear, trailing along her jaw and down her neck. It was a stark contrast to the rougher touch earlier in the day._

_“Your heart’s racing,” he whispered, eyes on her pulse point. “Does it ever beat for me, Marisa?”_

_Fingertips beneath his chin, she beckoned his eyes to hers and promised, “It’s beating for you right now.”_

_The few hundred heartbeats that followed had him lying back, his hands on her neck, thumbs toying with her ears as she leaned over him, bracing herself against the dock as they lazily danced between kisses._

_Stel’s soft purrs just beyond them were like a lullaby, coaxing them into a soft dreamlike state, a little world all their own._

_“Promise me something unfair,” she whispered against his mouth, eyes dancing between his._

_His fingers traced along her cheek, touching her like she was one of those precious documents through which he was always searching. “What’s that?”_

_Her mind screamed at her to stop, warned that she was compromised, but her heart was having none of it as it beat in rhythm to his. “You’ll never touch anyone else this way.”_

_“You mean promise not to love anyone else,” he prodded, eyes intoxicatingly soft._

_“I said what I meant,” she answered back, though not as bluntly as she’d intended._

_A boyish grin crept into his features as he drew her back into his kiss, the hand not threaded through her hair dragging her zipper down her back and slipping inside her dress, setting the nerves there into a frenzy at the contrast between the chilly air and his warm skin._

_“This dress is my favorite,” he whispered, hands now at her shoulders, pulling the thin, red material back._

_A coy smile touched her mouth. “I know.”_

_The night air took charge of her flesh as goosebumps spread along her exposed skin, drawing her attention to where they were._

_“We should go somewhere more private. The last thing I need is your mother catching us again.”_

_His hands continued exploring her skin, drawing all her hair over to one shoulder. “I want to drown in you under the stars.”_

_Laughing, she glanced up to the manor, the lights within still flickering. However, his hand became attentive to a very distractable part of her._

_“Asriel,” she murmured, resting her brow to his as she found herself the one drowning in his touch and scent, that earthy musk hidden beneath the soaps and colognes that had worn off as the day had faded into night._

_“I’ll love you to my last breath,” he whispered. “They’ll write sonnets about it, give us our own constellation, right there with Perseus and Andromeda.”_

_Breaths fluttering nearly as quickly as her heart, she groaned, torn between hating his sappiness and reveling in it. “Don’t mock.”_

_“Look at me,” he prodded, nose pushing into her cheek to draw her gaze up. “I’d burn the world for you.”_

_Sincerity exuded from his every facet and pore, calling her to accept the truth of his love like a brand upon her flesh._

_When his seed filled her many heartbeats later, rather than scold him for his carelessness, she held him deeper still, the stars above bearing witness to the intertwining of their fates._

Oz whimpered as her fingers twisted at his nape, drawing a biting ache along her spine. Eyes falling closed to keep the burn repressed, her teeth ground together as she poured her rage into the daemon, punishing him for the crime of being too weak to withstand the scrutiny of a woman nearly twice her age.

“Mama?”

Eyes snapping open, she jerked her gaze toward the door where Lyra stood, one hand on the door knob and the other gripping the door frame, face screwed up in concern.

The lax of her grip allowed Oz to spring away from her and flee under the chair to lick his wounds.

“Lyra,” she breathed, before the anger spread throughout her once more and she snapped, “How many times have I told you to knock?”

The flinch in her daughter’s expression as she took a step back brought a pang of regret, forcing her to take deep breath and calm herself before she ruined all the progress she’d made.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, conjuring a small smile as her eyes took Lyra in, noting the navy jumper her daughter hated and the fact that she’d actually brushed her hair, feebly, but accomplished.

“Let me see you,” she called, tone softer as she waved her over.

Lyra did as bid, though her steps had returned to that tentativeness she loathed. When her daughter was in front of her, she took her collar between her fingers and straightened it.

“You did all this on your own?”

Lyra gave a timid nod before her gaze wandered to Oz, who was still likely cowering beneath her seat.

The desire to fling him as far away from her as possible, to be rid of him entirely, was pressing as she attempted to discern the look on Lyra’s face. 

“That’s very good,” she said, taking Lyra’s chin with the pads of her fingers and drawing her gaze up. “Everything’s fine.”

“Why would you hurt him?” Lyra asked softly. “Doesn’t it hurt you?”

Shame licked at her mind. Enough so that she cast her eyes back to the mirror and resumed applying her makeup.

“Don’t worry over it, darling,” she replied, evading the topic. “Are you finished getting ready?”

“I am,” Lyra answered, leaning against the vanity and beginning to fidget with some jewelry, holding up different pieces. “Why do you have so much of this stuff?”

“The way you present yourself, your clothes, jewelry, determine the way people see you,” she explained. “It helps keep them distracted.”

“Why do you want to distract them?”

She smiled and playfully tapped Lyra’s nose. “To wield power over them, of course.”

“Cool.” Lyra finally grinned, her shoulders visibly relaxing as the worry practically rolled off her, and reached for her brush, twisting it between her fingers. “Are you going to be wielding power over father’s mother at dinner?”

Skin prickling, she stiffly answered, “Not likely.”

“Do we like father’s mother?”

Gaze shifting to her daughter, she observed the way Lyra watched her, searching for those slight giveaways in her face, and sighed, “Of course. She’s your grandmother.”

She was also the reason she’d struggled over what to wear for dinner, eventually settling on a soft blue dress.

“So is Madame Delamere and you don’t like her.”

“True,” she admitted, setting down her mascara. “But your father adores his mother. I’m sure you will, too.”

Lyra narrowed her eyes. “But you don’t.”

“I never said that,” she defended, not at all liking where this conversation was going.

“You were using your fake smile.”

Eyes shifting away from Lyra’s, she laughed, “I was not.”

“See,” Lyra exclaimed, pointing at her. “That one was real.”

Her mini counterpart, indeed, she thought as she admitted, “Your grandmother doesn’t approve of me.”

“Why?”

“Because... we have a very difficult history.”

“Well, I’m not going to like anyone who doesn’t like you,” Lyra said, crossing her arms as though her mind would not be moved should the effort be made to try.

“Then, you’ll spend your life with only your father and brother for company,” she informed, a smile touching her lips again as she tilted toward Lyra. “And that won’t even be all the time.”

Lyra huffed and moved to stand at her shoulder, her fingers touching her hair. “I like it better pulled back.”

“Do you, now?”

“Mhm.” Lyra gathered her hair up and pulled it back. “Like this.”

“I look like a schoolgirl with it like that.”

There was also the fact that it was close to her mother’s chosen style for her, which was why she purposefully never used it.

“I think you look beautiful,” Lyra commented. “I wish I looked like you.”

Turning in her seat, she took one of Lyra’s hands and brushed the other over her cheek. “I wouldn’t change a thing. You’re much more beautiful than me. Though,” she said, running her fingers over her forehead. “You do have my eyebrows.”

“I look like father,” Lyra groaned with a little foot stomp. “It’s so annoying.”

“Well, he’s not exactly terrible to look at.”

“I read a sonnet once that said love is blind,” Lyra deadpanned. “You’re clearly blind.”

Laughing, she brushed Lyra’s cheek. “You’re impossible.”

“I look like her, too,” Lyra added with a shrug of her shoulders. “The eyes and all.”

One tiny nod was all she gave as she returned to the mirror and adjusted her hair, fixing it up and off her shoulders the way Lyra wanted it.

“There. Satisfied?”

Lyra grinned. “I think father will like it.”

“I do like it.”

Both she and Lyra jumped as they found Asriel lingering in the doorway with his own grin.

“You’re not a very good spy,” Lyra exclaimed, looking him up and down.

Asriel chuckled and pushed away from the door. “I’ll leave the spying to you.” He rapped Lyra on the top of her head and nodded over his shoulder. “Run along and tell the cook we’re ready for dinner.”

“I have to do everything,” Lyra groaned as she did as bid; dramatically taking the door with her when she went.

Rather than acknowledge him, she turned back to her task, intending to steadfastly ignore him. If she had to punish him as painfully as she had Oz, she would. Asriel loathed her stubborn inclination to set him aside and deny him. 

It was only when he moved behind her and reached forward to unfurl a silver chain with an accompanying sapphire at its end that she met his gaze, her own showing a bit of surprise.

“I was going to wait for our anniversary, but...” He sighed and drew it around her neck to snap it. “I decided I’d do my best to assuage your anger if I want to survive to that date.”

The jewel held her gaze as she measured it, the small square cut stone resting against her chest.

“I’m not angry,” she replied, removing a bracelet that was now unfit to accompany the necklace.

Asriel chuckled and leaned against the desk, crossing his arms as he kept a watchful eye on her, which she did her best to avoid.

“You can’t fault her for being worried.”

Batting down the urge to roll her eyes, she quipped, “And I trust you alleviated that worry.”

His pause spiked a pang of stress in her temple, a dull ache she knew would persist so long as Madeline was in her house.

“Much like you, words count for little with her.”

Snapping her eyes to his, she said, “She’s implied you’re not Lynx’s father, that I married you to cover my pregnancy.”

When his shoulders lifted for a shrug, she tilted her head, daring him to say the implication had any merit.

“From an outside point of view-“

“So, it’s alright for me to be the whore, but you the innocent victim?”

“Marisa,” he groaned, head falling back like a denied child.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to sit and allow her to simply walk over me?” she asked, shoving herself up and away from him. “But I do it, Asriel, because she’s your mother and, besides that, it is  your job to defend me.”

“I defend you,” he shouted, throwing his arms out toward her. “I assured her I had complete trust in you.”

“That’s not enough,” she returned, equally as forceful. “She acts as though I’ve beguiled you. To be fair, you should be offended she thinks so little of your ability to withstand me.”

“Marisa, the last time she saw you, you were telling the world I took advantage of you; that you wanted nothing to do with our child.” He held out his hands. “She’s allowed a little room for doubt, especially considering she was the one who had to pick up the pieces of me you carelessly scattered into the wind.”

Swallowing against the uncomfortable tightness forming in her throat, she shook her head.

“My love-“

“Why did she imply I was the reason you didn’t keep Lyra?”

“What?” he asked, confusion playing out in his features as he pushed himself away from the desk.

“She asked if I knew the real reason you allowed Lyra to be adopted.” When his eyes left hers and became occupied elsewhere, she found herself suddenly unsteady. “Asriel, why am I to blame for that?”

“You’re not,” he sighed, dragging a hand over his eye. “She’s making something out of nothing.”

The fact that he was avoiding the real reason only furthered her agitation. She’d been responsible for many things, but this was not one of them.

“I have been... transparent with you,” she admitted, stepping into his field of vision. “About everything I went through when we... when it all fell apart. Do you have any idea how difficult that is for me?”

“I know that,” he answered a bit sharply.

“I gave Lyra to you after she was born. I wanted her to be with you.”

“That’s not why-“ He turned and ran a hand through his hair, a growl of frustration escaping him, before he spun back to her. “It was you, Marisa. Every fucking time I looked at her... all I saw was you and I... I couldn’t do it.”

Taken aback, she shook her head. “But you wanted her.”

“Of course, I wanted her,” he shouted, hands thrown up. “So did you, but you decided you couldn’t handle it. Well, as it turns out, neither could I.” Pausing a moment, he gestured to her, his tone softening. “I couldn’t stand to think about you; to think about parting with any more of my heart. So, I stayed away, threw myself into work, and visited every once in a while to make sure she was...” He shrugged his shoulders. “Then, the Master found her a home he said would be good and I... let her go. I thought it would be what was best for her... to have a family capable of loving her in a way her fucked up parents couldn’t.”

The knot in her throat finally forced her eyes to give way to a few tears as she nodded and whispered, “It is my fault, then.”

“No,” he quickly denied, stepping toward her. “It was my decision-“

“No, Asriel,” she said, planting a hand center of his chest and shoving him back. “Everything is... I felt in my gut that it was wrong; that I shouldn’t have abandoned her. I knew...” Shaking her head, she swiped at the tear that managed to escape. “I should’ve married you. I wanted you. I always wanted both of you. We should have raised her together.”

As she fell into a bout of staggered breaths, he stood at arms length, waiting for her to finish.

“She’s right,” she murmured, unable to catch her breath. “I’m just some pretty face with nothing to give you or them.”

“That’s a lie,” he whispered, taking that step and cupping her face, thumbs stroking the dampness along her cheeks. “You’re far from pretty. You’re magnificent.”

A croaky laugh leapt from her throat as she slapped his chest. “I hate you.”

“My love.” His grin was steady as he leaned in and kissed her. “I promise you. If you just let her see us as we are, give her some patience, it’ll all resolve itself.”

“I think you’re being unrealistically hopeful.”

“I know her. She just wants to make sure I’m alright.” He pressed his brow to her, warm breath washing across her face. “Once she sees how happy you make me, she’ll lighten up, but you have to let her see it, Marisa... genuinely.”

“I’m not the best at being genuine. I believe you’re the one who pointed that out.”

“I said that to hurt you,” he murmured into her skin. “I was trying to rile you up.”

“It worked,” she replied, twisting his burgundy sweater between her fingers. “I nearly gave into you with that little ploy you pulled that morning.”

He chuckled. “I began plotting the morning after that party. I knew you’d come for my blood and try to take Lyra.”

As she let go of the breath she’d deliberately held, she nodded and allowed herself to relax against him, wishing they could just stay where they were and avoid the rest of the world.

“Are we alright?” he whispered, lifting her chin, eyes dancing over her.

“For the moment,” she smiled.

“Good, now...” He lifted the jewel, balancing it on his fingertip. “Do you like it? I worried over this damn gift for days and now I have nothing to give you when our actual anniversary comes.”

Allowing him a laugh, she tilted up and brushed her lips to his. “It’s beautiful.”

His resulting grin was ridiculous as he leaned in for a more thorough kiss, his hands becoming much more adventurous.

“Do you think we can manage ten more minutes?” he murmured, mouth journeying to her neck.

“With Lyra on the prowl? Unlikely,” she chuckled, even as she tilted her head for him. “She’ll be after us soon.”

“I could get it done in five.” He backed her into the vanity, hands already unbuttoning and tugging at their clothes. “Promise.”

When they arrived in the dining room, Madeline and Lyra were already seated, caught up in conversation.

“What took you so long?” Lyra scolded, gaze sweeping over them as though a clue was upon their person. “The food’s probably cold.”

“It wasn’t that long, you ornery, little monkey,” Asriel said, pulling out a chair for her. “Plus, a lesson in patience wouldn’t hurt you.”

“You’re giving lectures on patience?” his mother laughed. “My how the tables have turned.”

“Not really,” she added, smile gracing her face. “He’s still the most impatient person I know.”

While Asriel returned her humor with a huff, his mother failed to acknowledge it and shifted to Lyra again.

“I was just telling Lyra that I didn’t realize there was a whole other girl under all that dirt,” Madeline said, smiling brightly at Lyra, who, for her part, appeared to simply want to eat as her attention was diverted to the kitchen doors.

“I like playing outside.”

Asriel chuckled. “She’d live outside if she could.”

“Your father was just the same; always conducting some experiment or getting into trouble with your uncle.”

Attention clearly grasped, Lyra frowned. “Uncle Marcel?”

“No, his brother, Asher,” Madeline said, a wistful expression touching her features. “He passed away just before you were born.”

“I had another uncle?” Lyra asked, gaze shifting to Asriel. “I didn’t know that. Was he nicer than Uncle Marcel?”

Asriel grunted and leaned forward, folding his hands together and she could see in his expression the reply on the tip of his tongue was going to be inappropriate.

“Asher was very respectful and polite,” she offered, catching Asriel’s eyes. “Much more so than your father.”

Asriel’s annoyance dissolved into a grin as he reached for his glass. “You’d not have me if I wasn’t unruly.”

Dinner was served while Asriel, Madeline, and Lyra continued to make small talk. She chose to keep her responses limited for fear that she would explode there on the spot.

“So, grandmother, why haven’t you ever visited before now?” Lyra asked, fork paused midway to her mouth, the sweet peas precariously balanced.

“I heard about my grandson’s birth and wanted to meet him and you, of course.” She tilted her head, her gaze focused on her plate. “I must admit I’m a little surprised at how different the two of you look. You could barely pass for siblings.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she took note of Stel and Oz resting together on the floor between she and Asriel, Oz’s eyes narrowed as he stared under the table. Thankfully, she was able to keep her face more controlled when looking at Madeline than he was with her daemon.

“Yeah, he has blue eyes,” Lyra said.

While she took a sip of her wine, Asriel sighed and laid his hand over hers on the table.

“He takes after Marisa.”

“So its seems,” she commented, gaze lingering on their hands. “I see you’ve given her my mother’s ring.”

Unconsciously twisting it around her finger, she caught Asriel’s tense shift as he replied, “I do believe that was the purpose of giving it to me.”

“My mother wore that ring for fifty-two years.” Madeline added, sipping her wine. “She and my father were very much in love.”

“As are Marisa and I,” he replied, gaze set.

However, Madeline made a noise that clearly portrayed her disagreement before she turned to Lyra. “I imagine you’ll inherit it soon enough, Lyra.”

“I’m not getting married,” Lyra groaned. “Lynx can have it.”

“Oh? I would think your mother would already have a lucrative suitor all lined up for you.” Madeline met her eyes with a generously pleasant smile. “She’s very good at ordering things to her advantage.”

While Madeline laughed and fell into the debate of marriage with Lyra, she withdrew her hand from Asriel and settled her hands together in her lap, clasped tightly to keep from latching onto her daemon.

“Mother,” Asriel said, tone laced with warning. “Enough.”

Madeline looked to him, eyes round and innocent. “Enough what, Asriel? I’m simply making observations about Marisa’s talent.”

“Mama’s good at everything.” Lyra grinned. “Except outside stuff.”

“Well, I thought you could teach me all of that,” she said, brushing Lyra’s hair back in an attempt to detract from the tension building around the table.

However, Asriel apparently didn’t catch onto that as he continued to glare at his mother, jaw set. For her part, Madeline met his wrath with a gracefully arched eyebrow.

“Tell me,” Madeline went on, taking up her fork and knife to cut into her vegetables. “Will there be more grandchildren?”

“Nothing’s certain,” she responded through a tight smile.

“Really?” Lyra exclaimed, twisting to face her. “But you said you were happy with just Lynx and I.”

“Well, you’ve convinced me I shouldn’t discount the idea so soon,” she admitted with a laugh.

“Is that a fact?” Asriel asked, amusement now dancing in his eyes.

Regarding him with a playful shrug, she turned to his mother and leveled her with a cheery smile. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind, would you? I imagine you and my mother could delight over such a thought together.”

For her part, Madeline only blinked at her, a neutral expression on her face. It was honestly the most fun she’d had at dinner up until this point.

“Do I get a say in it?” Asriel grunted.

Rathe than look to him, she caught Lyra’s eye. “Should we permit him a say?”

Lyra propped her chin in her hand and eyed Asriel a moment before sighing. “I suppose it’s the polite thing to do.” She then gave that mischievous grin. “But we’re not polite.”

“Not at all,” she laughed to which Asriel grunted again.

“I don’t think she needs lessons on how to be more like you. There’s plenty enough of you already in the little monkey.”

“He’s just jealous,” Lyra commented, twirling a fork at him. “Cause I want to grow up to be like you and not him.”

Chewing the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at Asriel’s annoyance, she leaned close to conspiratorially whisper to Lyra, “Now, he’s going to pout for days.”

“The truth hurts,” Lyra quipped before popping a carrot into her mouth.

“Not the best argument for creating more of you,” he muttered, eyes narrowed at their daughter.

“Well, mama’s the boss, so...” Lyra tilted her head and waved her hand. “We do what she says.”

Asriel leaned forward on his elbows and threaded his fingers together. “You think she’s the boss? Over me?”

“Obviously,” Lyra quipped, looking him over. “You wouldn’t even be able to dress well without her.”

Asriel’s lips pulled back in a feral grin that showed his teeth before he tilted his head toward his mother, who was still passively watching the exchange.

“Well, it does seem you have your hands full, Asriel,” she finally offered before shifting her focus completely to Lyra. “Lyra, why don’t you tell me about school? I hear you’re attending St. Catherine’s as I did.”

Lyra’s smile was like acid. “Oh yes, I love it. I’ve made so many friends, especially this one girl, Sally Manford. We like to go swimming together.”

Asriel choked on his drink and fell into a fit of coughs, drawing all three of their startled gazes.

“Darling, are you alright?” Madeline asked, touching his arm as her face filled with concern.

“Fine. I’m fine,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with a napkin before eyeing Lyra with an amused expression. “I nearly drowned there myself.”

Lyra only grinned and looked at her with a mischievous glance, leaving her delighted as her heart poured over with pride.

“It’s good to have friends,” Madeline commented, turning back to Lyra. “I imagine your... outspokenness draws much attention. You’re likely going to be quite the little leader amongst the girls at St. Catherine’s.”

“Oh, I intend to,” Lyra answered confidently. “How hard can it be to manipulate girls who only care about their makeup and clothes?”

Madeline’s eyes widened ever so slightly, glancing from Lyra to her. “I see you’re making an impact on her outlook. She’ll have moral-less claws grown out in no time.”

It was little surprise to her that the barb about Lyra’s likeness to her finally found life. She’d been expecting it for some time as Lyra seemed to be taking her declaration to dislike anyone who didn’t like her seriously.

“You could at least pretend to respect my wife in her own house,” Asriel threw in.

“Her house?” Madeline repeated, eyebrows arching. “I gave birth to you and raised you in this house.”

“And now Marisa will raise our children in it however she sees fit,” he snapped.

The fight to keep the smirk off her face was the hardest she’d ever fought.

“Will she? For how long? Until she grows bored with her husband again?”

“Lyra,” she said softly, knowing things were about to explode. “Why don’t you check on Lynx.”

Lyra glanced between all of them. “But...”

“Out,” Asriel growled, leaving no room for argument as his eyes blazed toward their daughter.

With a huff, Lyra bounced out of her chair and left the room.

“Go on, mother. I’m weary of the sniping. Let’s get everything out in the open.”

“I just want to make sure that you’re not being taken advantage of, Asriel,” Madeline continued, taking on a soft demeanor. “Is that so wrong of me? After everything she did to you, I would think you would understand my confusion at how we’ve come to be here, nearly ten years later no less.”

“Because I love her,” he answered, wiping a hand down his face. “And that should be to the delight of my mother who thought I’d never marry.”

“Love?” Madeline scoffed. “She devastated you; left you ruined; cast off your child after lying through her teeth about you. If you want to call that love, Asriel, I’m afraid you have a misconception of the word.”

His chest began to quicken as all the tension appeared to be settling in his face and shoulders. “That was a long time ago-“

“Asriel, I cannot fathom why you’ve allowed yourself to entangle with this disloyal woman again. She is-“

“My wife,” he snapped as Stel rose to her feet with a growl. “And the mother of my children.”

“Mother?” Madeline scoffed again. “I suppose we’re being flexible with that term.”

A flush of rage swept across her, threatening to bubble over and spill over everything. Knowing she’d let it go if she listened to any more, she pushed herself up. “I think I’ll go check on Lynx, too.”

Asriel turned to her and thrust a finger at her chair. “No, sit down.”

“Asriel-“

“Sit down, Marisa,” he growled, eyes blazing as the sound came off more threatening than Stel’s. “No one’s leaving until this is settled.”

Reluctantly taking her seat, she brought a hand to her head and rubbed her temple while wishing she’d forgone dinner altogether.

“Your father is gone, your brother is gone,” Madeline continued. “I am your mother and I raised you, Asriel. You play at being a hard man, but you’re not. She’s taking advantage of that.”

“She didn’t want anything to do with me,” he informed as though it should have been obvious. “I pursued her, not the other way around.”

“Oh, my son, you truly have no concept of what it is to be a woman.” Madeline shook her head and waved a hand at her. “She saw an opportunity and seized it.”

“An opportunity for what? To marry a ruined man? I had nothing but my name.”

“And yet... here you all are,” she taunted, hands held out. “Sitting in your family home, enjoying the luxuries of your inheritance and title. I’ll give her that she is a brilliant woman, but she is also a conniving manipulator. She did it with Edward, took everything he could give her, and then disposed of him. Now, here you are falling into the same traps. I raised you to be smarter than this, Asriel; smarter than allowing some pretty smile to sway you.”

Asriel nodded and crossed his arms. “Because I clearly can’t think for myself?”

“Let us not pretend you’ve ever kept a straight head when it comes to her. She’s had her claws in you from day one. Why did you marry her?” Madeline asked, looking between them. “Hmm?”

Asriel rested back in his seat and gave a careless shrug of his shoulders. “Since love doesn’t work for you, why don’t you tell me?”

“Don’t sit here and expect me to swallow any excuse other than her pregnancy.”

“What does it matter?” he groaned, thumping his head back against the chair. “I would think you’d be glad I’d marry the woman carrying my child.”

“Is he your child?”

Asriel’s chest began to labor as he turned more fully to his mother, jaw tense and hands fisted as he thrust a finger in her direction. “Lynx is my son.”

“And you’re sure of that? That he’s not Lord Boreal’s? Or any of the other men she’s welcomed into her bed?”

While Asriel sat back, a bit of dumbfoundment in his features, she found her voice, “How do you even know-“

“Because while my son may be disillusioned about you, I am not.” Madeline leveled her with a look that spoke of her disgust. “I had someone look into you and it appears you’re exactly as you’ve always been. Using men however it suits you, playing upon their weaknesses to get what you want. I suppose that’ll be the next thing you teach, Lyra.”

She’d been content to allow Asriel to lead the conversation up until this point, but now found herself properly infuriated.

“I love Asriel,” she said, nails digging into her palms.

“The way you loved Edward?” Madeline sighed. “You may or may not love my son, though, as I recall, you’ve said a great deal to convince me you don’t. However, I will not take the chance with my son’s life or my grandchildren’s future.”

“What do you think I’m going to do? Kill him and throw them away?”

“Well, you’ve had plenty of practice.”

“Great, my master plan is all ruined,” she spat, tossing her hands up. “You’ve had it out for me since the moment we met.”

“I’m sorry, Marisa, when I caught you red handed with my son during a moment of grief, was I supposed to smile and say thank you?” Madeline inquired, gesturing to her. “Or perhaps, when you implied that Asriel forced himself on you? That he threatened you?”

“Mother, stop-“

“I don’t care what you think,” she snapped, shoving herself up. “This is my house. Those are my children. And Asriel is my husband. You can disapprove all you want, but there is nothing that’s going to change that.”

“I don’t have to change anything, Marisa, you’ll destroy it all on your own. You won’t be able to help yourself. I’ve known your mother for years and you are her reflection. Tell me what she has now besides her attitude and children who can’t stand her?”

“Enough!” Asriel shouted, slamming his hand to the table and pointing a finger at his mother as both of them flinched. “You’re concerned and that is allowed, but don’t you ever imply a likeness between Marisa and her mother again.”

“I say what I see, Asriel.”

“You don’t see anything. You’re judging her off things she did when she was twenty-three fucking years old.”

“Do not use that coarse language with me, Asriel Belacqua.”

He slammed his hands against the table againand began leaving the room.

“Asriel,” she called only to have him ignore her and continue storming away, Stel chasing after him, until she heard the front door slam.

Allowing a heavy sigh to fall, she looked back to his mother who was sitting as unaffected as ever.

“I’m hard because I have to be,” Madeline offered. “I expect if what you say is true, you would do the same for either of your children in the future.”

“Mama?”

Gaze shifting to find Lyra entering the dining room, she sighed and forced a smile. “Yes?”

“Where did father go?” Lyra’s worried glances toward them prompted her feet to begin moving toward her.

“To get some air,” she answered, taking Lyra by the shoulder and leading her out of the room without a glance back. “How was Lynx?”

_ Casting a glance to the sky, she observed the dark clouds threatening to spill over and swallow them all. _

_ “Marisa,” her mother called, tugging at her arm. “Come.” _

_ Attention back on where she was heading, her eyes danced over the white columns of the building. _

_ It was then that she saw him, a few dozen yards away, head bowed and hands in his pockets as he slouched next to his mother, Thorold, and that Gyptian nurse as well as what she could only assume was his lawyer. _

_ Heart beginning to race, she came up short as her mouth suddenly became dry. _

_ “Marisa,” Marcel whispered at her side, urging her with a hand at her back. “Ignore them.” _

_ “I can’t do this.” _

_ “Yes, you can,” he prodded. “Just as we practiced.” _

_ It was like an invisible force had latched around her throat as Madeline’s eyes met hers, strangling her under the weight of her dark, judging gaze. _

_ Then, as if sensing the shift, Asriel’s eyes followed his mother’s to hers and he took a half step forward. _

_ The small shake of her head stopped him and she could see the change in his breathing from even this distance. _

_ “Marisa,” her mother hissed, fingers latching around her elbow. “Snap out of it. Think of that girl, of what she’ll endure if you give into that base weakness bubbling inside you.” _

_ “People are watching,” Marcel muttered, taking up her other arm, looping his through hers. “We need to move.” _

_ “Now, Marisa.” _

_ Her mother’s grip finally prompted her feet to begin moving again, up the steps and through the reporters shouting her name, cameras flashing at every angle. _

_ By the time it was all over and she’d said what she had to say, her heart was racing from the pressure to maintain her expression, to appear just affected enough to appear convincing of the lies she’d just strewn everywhere; lies about him and her, what they were. She’d nearly choked on the implications she’d given life; the kind that painted Asriel as jealous and obsessive, threatening her and Edward’s safety should she deny him. And the baby... the disregard she’d shown for their child. _

_ Just as they were about to enter a second set of doors, she was jerked around by the arm in a painful grip to be met with Asriel’s burning gaze. _

_ “What have you done, Marisa?” _

_ The rage pouring off him was palpable as he shook her. _

_ “Asriel,” Madeline whispered urgently. “Let her go.” _

_ Marcel grabbed the hand latched around her elbow only to be shoved back by Asriel before he jerked her forward, now a breath from her. _

_ “Tell me,” he demanded, clutching her shoulders. “Tell me how you could say those things, that you don’t want our child? That I-“ _

_ There was the briefest of moments where she wanted him to snap her neck, to just be done with it; with all her sins and depleted humanity_

_ Words did not find her as her eyes flickered over his mixture of wrath and devastation, each one warring for dominance as he implored her for a truth she couldn’t grant him. _

_ It was Thorold and a guard who finally managed to get her loose of him as they jerked Asriel back at Madeline’s pleading. Marcel and her mother immediately began pushing her toward the exit. _

_ “I’ll never forgive you, Marisa.” _

_ The words were like tiny knives stabbing her in the back and she found herself wanting to turn to let him twist each one. _

_  
Right before they exited, she muttered, “I need-“ _

_ Turning from them, she practically fled into the nearest bathroom, pushing a stall open and emptying her stomach in the toilet, hoping if she wretched enough, all her sins would depart from her._

_ “Marisa,” her mother scolded. “Get up.” _

_ “Get away from me,” she moaned, clutching her fists against her lap. “You’ve taken everything.” _

_ “You have your health and your brain, Marisa. You’ll recover.” Heels clicked against the floor and the stall door was opened. “And now you have no distractions to stop you from rising as high as you like. Now... you can be anything.”_


	16. A Mother’s Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was added to by bentnecklady’s mention of having the two mothers in the same room. Hope y’all enjoy it!

_ “This is the most miserable I’ve ever felt in my entire life,” she groaned, theatrically throwing her head back against the chair as if it would help the misery disappear by showing her displeasure. “I loathe you.” _

_ Without lifting his gaze from the text propped on his knee, he gave a lazy reply, “I’m sure whatever you’re feeling now will be a welcome feeling when the time comes to be rid of the little parasite.” _

_ If it were at all feasible a thing, she was now more irked than before and let her displeasure show through a spiteful gaze as she spat, “You’re a great comfort, Asriel, truly. I can’t imagine how you manage to contain the overwhelming flow of adoration you’re always spouting over and over like a man bereft of any sense of self respect.” _

_ The barest trace of a grin built at the corner of his mouth before it vanished and he returned to scribbling something in a notebook, leaving her to shift uncomfortably for the dozenth time since sitting down. Seven months in and she was still torn over whether she hated the creature physically sucking the life out of her or was delighted to have a creation of her own making to mold however she saw fit. _

_ Often now, her thoughts lingered on the shape of this growing thing she could feel but not see; the nose and chin; the jaw and ears. Would its color be pale or have a touch of tan? Would the eyes be Asriel’s brilliant blue or her own softer hue? _

_ Then, her thoughts would turn to Asriel and what sort of father he might have been. It was a nearly impossible picture to grasp; him and her as parents; as caregivers meant to impart love and patience. It shocked her still that there was enough room in his heart for his claim of love for her; a thing she struggled to understand even now, over a year later with his child firmly planted within her, stealing every ounce of energy she possessed. _

_ “Edward has been very doting,” she quipped with a huff, determined to have him at her side one way or another. “You could take a lesson from him. At least, he’s interested in his baby and making sure I’m comfortable.” _

_ Barely sparing him a parting glance to see if his low growl was accompanied by his eyes, she picked at her nails as she held back a smirk. _

_ “His baby?” _

_ “For all intents and purposes, yes,” she answered, shuffling her hair off her shoulders as the hearth drew a sheen of sweat to her neck. Why he had a fire going in mid July boggled her mind. “He or she will be a Coulter after all.” _

_ Yes, she was being petty, but she’d spent the last half hour waiting for him to pay her attention and she’d exhausted her patience. It wasn’t like she came here on the one day Edward, who’d been overly clingy the past few months, was out for an extended time to watch him take notes. She’d barely seen Asriel throughout the pregnancy so far and her ache for him had grown into a dangerous dilemma; one that involved a ridiculous amount of tears which had to be explained away to Edward and a thirst for his companionship for which she’d die before giving life. _

_ “He even brought me a selection of cribs to choose from so I wouldn’t have to leave the house.” Stel popped up at Asriel’s side to leer at her over his leg. “I’ll admit I’m surprised at his outlook on fatherhood, even for a daughter should we be so unlucky as he put it.” _

_ The flexes of his jaw as he glared at her, his crystal eyes rigid and hard, but beautiful in their intensity, should have fixed her to her chair, fearful to utter another word. However, she’d never been one to follow the norm. _

_ “He’s even began to compile a list of names,” she added, deliciously twisting the invisible dagger into his gut as her final act of spite. “He’s quite fond of naming a son after himself, of course. He does enjoy everyone knowing of his accomplishments and Eddie Coulter, Jr. would certainly be the icing on the cake.” _

_ A heartbeat was all she had to prepare for him to be in her face, not that it was at all unexpected. _

_ “You manipulative little-“ _

_ “Uh uh,” she scolded, finger jamming over his mouth as she gauged the rage swirling in those clear crystals. “You wouldn’t want our child to learn any dirty words. I hear they’re quite impressionable from the womb at this point.” _

_ He continued to glower at her like she was some bug he wished to crush under his boot. “Now, it’s our child?” _

_ A grin slinked onto her lips as she traced a finger along his chin and jaw, cursing herself inwardly over how wonderful it felt to have any physical contact with him. “When it suits me.” _

_ A low growl rumbled from his chest as he rested his hands on her knees, forcing them apart to allow him to squat between her legs before he lifted them to smooth over her swollen belly, quite possessively if she was honest. The movement satisfied a dark desire from deep within her core. _

_ “It doesn’t hear words,” he explained, pressing gently along the swollen home of their child. “But tones are what draws its attention.” _

_ Granting him a dubious look, she laughed and brushed his hair from his forehead, unable to keep her hands from finding him. “And how do you know that?” _

_ “Science, Marisa,” he grumbled. “It’s quite like talking underwater. Impossible to make out, but intent coming across just fine. It’ll be quite attached to your voice, you know?” His gaze flickered to her face with a certain malice at which she felt her heart leap. “Quite used to the empty and merciless tone you possess.” _

_ Drained of all amusement, she nearly flinched under the unexpected rebuke. _

_ “You’ve been its only source of refuge,” he went on, attention back on her belly. “I imagine its grown quite accustomed to your tone; to the pitiless way you treat people. It’ll likely enter the world with the thought already deeply planted in its vulnerable mind that its mother despises it; that it’s worth is less than nothing.” _

_ For what felt like the thousandth time during its occupation of her emotions, that foreign entity took her over and brought her to the verge of tears, a fact he became acutely aware of as his face melted into one of perplexity when he finally looked to her again. _

_ “Marisa-“ _

_ “Don’t,” she whispered, voice all pathetically cracked as she shoved his hands away from her and threw her attention to the ridiculous fire burning in the hearth. _

_ A surge of panic began to well from deep within her as she gripped the arms of the chair. For some reason, his swipe at her impending motherhood sank deeper than usual. _

_ “What- Why are you-“ he stammered, hand lifting to wipe at a stray streak of dampness beneath her right eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry; not like this anyway.” _

_ “It’s this fucking parasite you put inside me,” she snapped with all the venom she could conjure as she slapped his hand away. “It’s ruining my life.” _

_ “I do believe it took both of us to create it.” _

_ “Oh, do shut up, Asriel,” she spat, eyes swiveling to his startled ones. “You did this when you came inside me without permission. No one is allowed to do that, not even that fucking idiot, but you, you just had to take everything you could, didn’t you?” _

_ “Marisa-“ _

_ “I won’t leave him for you, so you decided to force the issue,” she went on, gripping the arm rests to pull herself forward to get right in his face. “You did this on purpose!” _

_ “And you didn’t say a damn word about it,” he shouted, anger finally managing to overcome his momentary bafflement. “Don’t sit there and pretend you weren’t involved, Marisa. You made no move to stop me.” When she tried to evade his gaze, his hand snapped up to grip her jaw, fingers biting her flesh as he held her gaze a breath from his. “You looked me right in the fucking eye and didn’t even blink. If anything, you acted pleased with it, you manipulative bitch.” _

_ “I hate you,” she whispered, all the fight snapped out of her as she jerked her face free. “I hate you more than anything.” _

_ “This parasite will no doubt be the most spoilt and prized little snob in all of England for all the pampering you’ll dote onto it.” His hands fell to her belly again, smoothing over it like he owned it. “And it’ll be because it’s mine. Every time you look at it, you’ll be more and more pleased with yourself for hoodwinking that fool. Do you have any clue as to how jealous I am that you’ll get all the credit for the little monster?” _

_ Snapping a hand to swipe at a stray tear, she refused to give him the satisfaction himself, even more so when she felt his lips taking the place of his hands, peppering her belly with stray kisses and brushes of his nose. _

_ “You’ve never been more lovely; ethereal,”he murmured, taking her hands and threading his fingers through hers as he rested them against the sides of her breasts and ascended to nuzzle his face in the valley where her dress stopped, taking his time to lather attention against her exposed skin before continuing to her throat and jaw. “I dream of possessing you, of proclaiming to the world that Marisa Coulter is mine; that I put this perfect little parasite inside her; that we created something so extraordinarily unique; something so above the rest of them.” _

_ Breath more shallow, her eyes fluttered as she tried with all her might to resist him. It hardly mattered that this was what she’d wanted when she began their little word game. His words had struck a dangerous cord, one along which her thoughts had already lingered and frayed the delicate edges. _

  
_The thought that she might now become the same mother she’d been given, that she would torture and deprive her child stole her breath and had her bolting up mid scream at night when her dreams became so vivid she could no longer remain within them._

_ When he pressed his nose into her cheek, his hot breath washing her jaw and neck, she stuttered for breath, torn between weeping and begging. _

_ “Look at me,” he softly encouraged, drawing one hand to her chin as an extra nudge even as the previous bite of his fingers lingered. “My love.” _

_ Eyes burning with the effort she was putting forth to keep the tears at bay, she met his brooding blue orbs and unconsciously allowed a choked sob to escape. _

_ “This child’s going to love you with an all consuming focus,” he whispered, tracing his finger along her cheek. “Like an obsession. You can work with that, can’t you?” The corners of his mouth lifted as his eyes became impossibly soft. “To be the center of its world? Its most important person with all the control and power to sway it? To mold it?” _

_ “Like my mother,” she muttered, eyes falling tightly closed. “Incapable of affection and empathy.” _

_ “No,” he was quick to deny, brushing his lips to her temple. “Far from that; practically as far removed from that as one magnetic pole is from the other.” _

_ “I don’t need your false praise, Asriel,” she spat, shoving him back. _

_ But he only laughed, resuming his place within her space as though she’d never removed him from it. _

_ “When have I ever falsely praised you?” he asked, kissing her neck and burning a path across her collar and chest. “You wretchedly magnificent creature.” _

_ His hands smoothed up her thighs, tugging her hem up until it bunched at her waist. _

_ “My monkey,” he growled, palming her through the lace as he lifted his head, eyes aflame with the same passion she’d been holding at bay for months, as he leaned in to briefly kiss her lips and breathe, “My warm, wet monkey.” _

_ Eyes fluttering as he twisted the fabric down her legs, she sighed as he tossed them over his shoulder. _

_ “Who am I, Marisa?” he murmured, as he lightly dipped his finger between her folds and traced upward, eliciting a cascade of want that spread out like a web across her flesh from the place she needed him most. _

_ “Asriel,” she pleaded, clutching a hand at the back of his neck, desperate to have him closer, deeper. “Mine. You’re mine.” _

_ The barest whisper of a touch to that bundle of nerves sent her surging toward the edge before it abruptly vanished. _

_ “And...?” he prodded, settling back on his knees away from her, leaving her to rest back in the chair, hands clutching the arms again as she fought to not dissolve into a fit of pleas then and there. _

_ “My lover,” she confessed, voice betraying her need. “The father of my baby.” _

_ His eyes darkened as he shifted closer, hands circling beneath her knees and tugging them to draw her further down the chair. “Our baby.” _

_ Nodding, she reached out and threaded her fingers though his hair. “Ours.” _

_ The next couple dozen heartbeats, dozen because that’s all it took, saw his head buried between her thighs, his mouth barely scratching the surface of what she was normally accustomed before she fell into oblivion, her heightened arousal shoving her off the precipice as quickly and forcefully as a bolt of lightning striking undisturbed earth. _

_For the past few months, neither Edward nor her own fingers had seen her wanton desires quite so undone and completely quenched. _

_ By the time she came down and found rational thought again, he’d moved his attention to her thighs, lingering there for some time, fingers massaging her calves in an achingly glorious fashion, before he returned his attention to her ridiculously slickened state, his train of thought clear. _

_ “I don’t think I can-“ _

_ Words caught halfway up her throat, she arched back into the chair, her fingers clutching at his scalp as he mouthed her sensitive places determinedly, his tongue and lips exchanging caresses, taking unpredictable but equal turns drawing her deeper under his thumb. _

_ By the time he’d brought her to her peak for the second time, she was worn and weak, still arched for him, but pulling his head back as she was barely able to stand his touch any longer. _

_ When he relented and rested his head against her belly, she relaxed and ran her fingers through his hair, softly scratching his scalp as she relished in the pleasant aftershocks still striking out at her nerves.  _

_ As he lingered there, ear to her womb, arms wrapped around her waist, she felt those foreign feelings wrapping around her just as tightly.  _

_ “What would you name him?” she murmured, simply wanting the sound of his voice. _

_ “Do you think he’d suspect anything if we went with Asriel Jr?” _

_ “Mmm.” A small smile tugged at her mouth. “It’d be a struggle for him to wrap his mind around. His self imposed ego wouldn’t permit him to think I’d stray from him.” _

_ His arms tightened about her as he nuzzled closer into her like he was content to fall asleep there, half curled on the floor, half curled around her waist. _

_ “Do you want a son?” _

_ Turning her head to the side, she drew her fingers over his brow and closed eyes. “A boy would be easier. He’d have less scrutiny and more advantage. He wouldn’t have to fight for every little word. It’d nearly be too easy to set his path.” _

_ “And my twisted little monkey enjoys her challenges too much for a boy is what you’re saying.” _

_ “Hmm,” she laughed. “You could say that. A girl would be more fun, a delicious battle to be fought every day.” _

_ A heavy sigh slipped from his nose as he whispered, “And her name?” _

_ The name fell from her lips as easily as her breath. “Lyra.” _

There was something thoroughly satisfying about holding her son. Perhaps, it was how small and vulnerable he was. Or perhaps it was how dependent he was on her for everything. What she knew for sure was he was the one person she could count on to not betray her feelings at present.

A week had passed since Madeline’s arrival and she’d found herself routinely busy, sticking to her study for substantial amounts of time during the early hours until Lyra arrived home from school. Then, she would put forth her best efforts to involve herself in whatever her daughter wanted; be it fishing or scavenging for certain leaves for a homework assignment, but had found herself withdrawing from such things rather quickly as Madeline has inserted herself as well.

At present, she had secluded herself in the nursery, having sent Ms. Taylor away for the weekend, which was out of the norm, but necessary to prove to Madeline that she was actually a decent mother. It was easier to close herself up with Lynx and attempt to figure out what mothers do rather than struggle to openly do so with Lyra when Madeline was already a fucking expert.

Asriel was absent, as had been the usual lately. Since the spat at dinner the Sunday before, he and his mother had been stiff with one another and he had missed more than one of the dinners that followed.

As for her, he’d been equally distant, retuning to their bed after she’d long warmed it and leaving it before she could tell he’d ever been in it. While she knew it wasn’t her per say that was the problem, his avoidance of his mother was adversely affecting their marriage.

Lyra, while she’d put her best foot forward toward disliking Madeline, had eventually succumbed to her grandmother’s charms, even agreeing to take walks with her in the evenings to discuss what she was learning in school; a subject she’d never cared to discuss previously.

Her daemon sat at the window, moody and disengaged from her time with Lynx, who had woken them up twice the night before, leaving them both more irritable than usual.

For his part, Lynx had recently discovered his own hands, which he seemed to adore, especially when they were fisted in her hair or reaching for her nose. To be so small, she was quite surprised at the strength of his grip, not that she really knew anything about what she should expect.

Like now, with him making various expressions at her like he just knew she was out of sorts and might be trying to cheer her up, which was of course working as there was no denying him when he was so calm and sweet.

“Where on earth did you come from?” she whispered, her voice a ridiculous sound to even her own ears much less Oz’s, who turned to look at her as though she were bereft of any sense.

Lynx in return only gurgled some odd sound back at her while his daemon yawned and stretched out across his chest in the form of a small, red fox, its favored form. So far, she’d witnessed a handful of shapes depending on his moods. When he’s calm, the shape usually was something in the family of a cat, rabbit, or fox. When he was upset, the shapes tended to drift more toward reptiles; although, to her surprise, she’d witnessed a monkey quite similar to her own during his last bath.

Lyra had not been pleased with the sight.

_ “There’s no need to be jealous,” she teased, taking a bit too much delight at her daughter’s rant. _

_ Lyra’s deep set pout continued, her stare fixed on the back of the nearly white fur of the small daemon. _

_ “I’m sure it won’t persist,” she assured, drawing Lyra forward by the elbow. “He’s only just starting to notice things, that’s all. His daemon saw Oz and mimicked him.” _

_ Lyra huffed and leaned against the counter. “He should mimic father, instead.” _

_ “Bring me that towel,” she laughed, gesturing toward the counter. _

_ Lyra did as told, but huffed again as she did, her movements becoming extra exaggerated. _

_ “You should be delighted,” she said, lifting Lynx and wrapping him up. “He’s probably seen Pan do the same when you’re playing with him.” _

_ After Lynx was settled in the nursery, she ventured to Lyra’s room to tell her goodnight. To her surprise, Lyra was sitting in the center of her bed, reading to Pan. _

_ “What’s this?” she teased, walking up to the bed. “Are you actually reading without being told?” _

_ Lyra laughed and pointed to the patterns on the page. “It’s a book of stars and constellations. Father bought it for me.” _

_ “Did he?” Sitting on the bed, she lifted the book and thumbed through some of the pages. “That was thoughtful of him.” _

_ And odd. So very odd. Even now, gestures affirming his fatherhood still filled her with a mixture of wonder and bafflement. _

_ “It’s really cool. It has all the myths that goes with each one, too.” Lyra went to her knees beside her and turned a few pages. “Look, this one is Lynx.” _

_ As Lyra traced her finger over the zigzag constellation, she explained, “His name means ‘keeper of the secrets’ and it says that to see the constellation, you’d need the keen eyesight of a Lynx, which is a kind of wildcat.” _

_ Smiling, she nodded along as Lyra continued telling her the facts about the constellation like she was suddenly an expert in the field. _

_ “It’s seems you’ve learned more about it than even I knew.” At Lyra’s proud grin, she nodded to the pillows. “But morning will be here before you know it and you need rest for school.” _

_ While Lyra groaned, she submitted and dove beneath the blankets, drawing a laugh from her as she covered her, careful to not smother Pan. _

_ “Mama?” _

_ “Hmm?” Lyra fidgeted with the hem of the blankets, suddenly nervous, prompting her to brush her cheek. “What’s wrong, darling?” _

_ “I want something and Grandmother Madeline says I should tell you, but...” Lyra sighed, body sinking further into the bed. “I’m scared you’ll be angry with me.” _

_ The fact that Madeline was privy to something she wasn’t regarding her daughter stirred at the fire that was always simmering just below the surface. _

_ “Lyra,” she softly said, tucking some hair behind her ear. “You needn’t ever worry about being honest with me. You can tell me anything. Always.” _

_ “But I know you won’t like it,” Lyra protested, brown eyes darting toward Pan, who nodded his head encouragingly. _

_ A heavy sigh slipped from her as she shrugged, “That doesn’t mean I’ll be angry. We’re not always going to like the same things, Lyra, but that doesn’t mean you can’t tell me.” _

_ After a few moments more contemplation, Lyra let all the air seeep from her lungs before she admitted, “I’d like to see Madame Delamare.” _

_ A prickly sensation swept over her as she stiffened, sure she’d misheard. “My mother?” _

_ Lyra gave a small nod, seeming to revert into someone much younger than the outspoken, mischief seeker she usually was. “I miss her.” _

_ “Hmm.” Eyes torn from Lyra, she looked to the window where Oz was staring back at her, his dark eyes full of disdain. “I see.” _

_ That was nowhere in the realm of possibilities through which her mind had quickly thumbed. _

_ “Are you angry?” Lyra asked, voice barely a whisper. “I tried to not miss her, but...” _

_ “But you spent nearly your whole life with her,” she finished, forcing herself to smile and reassure her child as their eyes met again. _

_ “I love you more,” Lyra quickly added as though she just knew this would dredge up insecurities. “And I love being with you and father, but... I’d just like to see her. She gets lonely and now I’m not there to keep her company.” _

_ Lonely? Her mother? The thought brought her a delicious satisfaction, but one look at Lyra halted that thought from ever finding life. It took her some time to force the words out. They stuck like quicksand in her throat. _

_ “Alright,” she murmured with a smile. “Why don’t you invite her over this weekend? Hmm?” _

_ Lyra’s eyes widened as she swiftly pushed up and threw her arms around her neck. “Thank you!” _

_ The tight hold brought her own arms up, wrapping around the overjoyed girl before she whispered, “As long as you don’t let her steal you away from me.” _

_ Lyra pulled back a little to see her, her smaller fingers cupping her face as she became serious. “I’ll never leave you, mama. I love you more than anything.” _

_ A half smile twitched as she took one of Lyra’s hands and kissed her fingers. “I love you, too.” _

Dropping her pen, she stretched her neck and arms, attempting to get the kinks out from sitting on the floor for so long.

Oz hopped down from the window and moved to Lynx’s side, looking from him to her like he was tired of babysitting.

“Well, we’re not going downstairs,” she said, resuming her task of examining reports. “I’m not in the mood to deal with either one of them.”

He sat back on his haunches, looking every bit as annoyed as she felt at being forced into seclusion.

Lynx made another gurgling sound as he twisted to look at her daemon. Pushing some hair from her face, she rolled him over to his belly, allowing him to adjust positions to look around so he didn’t fuss.

She imagined with the way he’d began to attempt moving around that he’d be rolling over on his own soon enough. The thought of having to search for both him and Lyra brought a dull ache to her temple.

“Motherhood’s never looked so enchanting.”

As though her hand was caught in the cookie jar, she whipped around to find Asriel leaning in the doorway, a ridiculous grin on his face.

“I hate when you do that,” she griped, turning back to her work, intent on punishing him.

Heavy footsteps grew closer and she stifled an eye roll. With all the time she’d wanted him to pay her attention this week and he hadn’t, now was not the moment for it.

“You didn’t have to send the nanny away,” he went on, squatting beside Lynx and smoothing a hand over his thin, dark hair.

Clutching her pen tighter, she held back a snarl at how nonchalant he was, just walking in and offering his unsolicited advice. Then, there was the very petty, possessive part of her that wanted to snatch her baby from his reach.

“I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”

“Why are you upset?” he asked as Stel nudged against Oz, settling around his hunched position, but by no means lessening his scowl.

“Guess,” she quipped, signing a document and moving it to the side with a bit more flourish than she’d previously used.

“I’ve not done anything.”

The actual confusion in his tone grated her nerves even further. Was he really that thick headed?

“Exactly.” Finally meeting his perplexed gaze, she tilted her head by means of which to show her aggravation. “I’ve barely seen you all week.”

“I’ve been at Jord-“

“You’ve been avoiding your mother who’s managed to somehow enchant Lyra and the majority of her time.”

To her continued aggravation, he shrugged his shoulders and lifted Lynx before sitting on the floor, placing Lynx in his lap.

“I don’t see why I should be blamed for your avoidance of her. You’re letting her do it.”

She was going to murder him. Right here.

“You’re being a coward,” she spat, slamming her pen to the floor. “I want her _out.”_

“Marisa, I can’t just make her leave,” he sighed as Lynx wrapped his fingers around his larger ones. “She’s my mother. How would you feel if Lynx did that to you?”

_“Don’t_ do that,” she snapped. “Don’t compare us.”

“Why?” he asked, challengingly glancing at her. “Because you would feel inferior? Who’s the real coward here, Marisa?”

Teeth nearly ground into inexistence, she replied, “I don’t give a fuck who she is. I want her gone.”

Rather than acknowledge her, he lifted the document she’d signed off on and held it up between them.

“Perhaps, if you’d stop stealing other people’s children and focus on your own, you’d be winning at your petty, little game.”

Lungs ready to burst, she slapped him, hard, the sting biting her palm as much as his face.

The result had him grasping her arm before it could be retracted and jerking her closer, his eyes dancing dangerously to match her own as his breathing picked up. Then, rather than snap back at her, his mouth found hers in a rush, teeth clashing as she relented some ground in an attempt to back away only to have him follow her, his hand still tightly clutching her upper arm.

“No,” she murmured, tilting her head back as her other hand came up to push at his throat, nails nearly piercing the skin there. “That’s not going to work this time.”

The sound that built in his throat came out more like a whine than a growl as his hold on her tightened rather than lessened; the two of them now in a battle of who’d loosen their grip first.

“How can someone so beautiful be so spiteful?”

Snorting her disagreement, she shoved him away and snatched the document back to put it with the others, stacking them neatly and pushing them into their folder.

“You’re not touching me again until she’s gone.”

Instead of retorting, he ignored her attempts to evade his touch and lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. “I love you.”

“Don’t,” she groaned, leaning away from him.

Rather than acknowledging her, he leaned in and kissed her neck, just below her ear where he knew it’d drive her mad. “Then, how will we continue to remake Oxford in our image?”

Unable to help the bubble of laughter that built in her throat at that thought, she allowed the remnants of her anger to roll off as she threaded her fingers through the hair at his nape and turned her face into his.

“Don’t blaspheme,” she muttered, brushing her lips over his.

“Gross.”

Lyra’s voice carried a heavy disgust as she came into the room, face to match it.

Asriel groaned and lifted his head to glare at their daughter. “Do you mind?”

_“Deeply,”_ Lyra replied, dropping to the floor beside Asriel to take Lynx’s hand.

A smile grew as she watched Lyra entertain Lynx, making faces at him as he stared up at her.

“How was school this week?” Asriel asked, as she rubbed at his neck to suggest he relax. “Start any new fights?”

“Awful,” Lyra groaned, tossing her hands up. “I hate reading and my teachers are so boring.”

“And the Manford girl?”

Lyra shrugged, attention back on Lynx. “Whimpering about some boy. She doesn’t even look at me which is fine by me since she she’s about as ugly as that mangy dog Tony Costa has.”

Asriel snorted, “I see why you don’t have any friends.”

Looking properly offended, Lyra glared at him, nostrils flaring. “I have plenty of friends.”

Intervening before they began to argue, she tilted her head and asked Lyra, “Don’t you have company you’re meant to be entertaining?”

With confusion coating his features, Asriel glanced between them. “Company?”

“Madame Delamare is here,” Lyra answered. “She’s having tea in the garden with Grandmother Madeline.”

Asriel focused on her with a frown. “You invited your mother?”

“No, Lyra did,” she groaned. “I haven’t spoken to her or Marcel since that delightful dinner we had where you broke his arm.”

At that, Lyra stood and pointed at Lynx. “She wants to meet Lynx and said for you to stop hiding from her.”

“Hiding?” she scoffed, eyes narrowing at her daughter. “I’m not hiding.”

The shrug of Lyra’s shoulders prompted a huff as she used Asriel’s shoulder for leverage to stand.

“Get up,” she said, snapping her fingers for him to hand her Lynx. “And give him to me. I may as well get this over with.”

His sigh as he stood with the baby was one of great disappointment. “But we were having so much fun hiding.”

An annoyed laugh fell from her as she slapped his arm and shoved him toward the door.

_ “It’ll be best to tutor from home,” her mother said, sitting down across from her. _

_ A heavy sigh escaped her as she leaned against the arm of the sofa, resting her head against her palm. Edward and Marcel were making small talk across the room and the end of her patience with her mother’s advice was about to abruptly end. _

_ “It’s a bit soon for that,” she replied, laying a hand over her ever growing belly.  _

_ “It’s never too soon to decide.” Her mother brushed some lint from her dress. _

_ “As it’s not even born yet, I would think soon is most definitely the word.” _

_ “It?” Her mother scoffed. “Really, Marisa. You’re too educated for such base vocabulary.” _

_ Rolling her eyes, she felt her agitation growing and groaned, “Mother. Stop.” _

_ “Very well,” her mother agreed, leaning back into the sofa and crossing her legs. “Who’s the father?” _

_ Head snapping up, she stared at her mother in surprise for a moment before glancing at Edward, who was still lost in some frivolous topic. _

_ “I don’t know what you mean.” _

_ A coy smile revealed teeth as her mother replied, “Lord Asriel, dear girl.” _

_ The muscles along her cheek tightened as she lightly laughed. “That’s absurd.” _

_ “Oh, Marisa, come now. I’m not scolding you,” her mother said, waving her hand off. “I never took you for a faithful wife in the first place and Edward is so...” Gray eyes slithered in his direction. “Plain. He was never going to hold your attention.” _

_ Evening out her breathing, she shook her head as her mother turned back to her. _

_ “Now, Asriel, that’s a man who turns heads.” _

_ “He’s a blasphemous heretic,” she spat, praying her tone was as firm as she’d meant it and not some cracked whimper like she felt it might be. “You’re misinformed.” _

_ “Ah, of course. I did teach you to deny to your grave, didn’t I?” Mother tilted her head and relaxed, arm resting along the sofa. “It’s fine to have a bit of fun every once in a while, Marisa. Keep your blood pumping to make sure you don’t die of boredom with Edward, but I do hope you weren’t foolish enough to be so reckless as to allow the man to father your child.” _

_ “I don’t appreciate the accusation, mother,” she replied, picking at her nails. “Edward is the only possibility.” _

_ “Hmm, so difficult to tell with you,” her mother concluded, tsking at her. “Well, if the child is Asriel’s, that would be very reckless, darling. Asriel hardly seems the type to let another man raise his child. I do hope you didn’t tell him.” _

_ Teeth grinding, she cast another wary glance toward Edward and growled, “Stop saying his name.” _

_ “And what will you do should the child arrive spouting blasphemies right out of the womb? Hmm?” _

_ “Mother,” she groaned, rubbing two fingers to her temple. “Stop.” _

_ There was a moment where she was sure they were done; that for once her mother had listened and let it go. _

_ “I’m having trouble visualizing it,” her mother commented, voice with a sort of far off wisp. “You as a mother.” _

_ “It’s not as though I asked for it,” she breathed, practically able to hear her heart beating over the blood rushing in her ears. _

_ If only she’d stayed with Asriel the night before, content to simply lounge around imagining some future for them, a fantasy that would never be. At times, she did wish she could be that person; free to just... exist; to cast all her ambition and care for influence off to the side for love. _

_ “Well, I’m sure I taught you how to prevent such accidents. With you starting out this young, I imagine more hiccups will occur. Take my advice, Marisa, one is quite enough.” Her eyes trailed to the men again. “Unless you’re stuck with a weak boy. Sometimes weakness is impossible to draw out; it’s an infection.” _

_ Lifting her head, she leveled her mother with a hard look. “This child doesn’t have the genes to be weak.” _

_ “Ah,” her mother tsked, that predatory grin widening. “The baby is Asriel’s, then.” _

_ “It’s mine,” she forcefully snapped, nails biting into her palms. “All mine and I’ll have no one telling me what to do with it.” _

“Ah, there you are, darling,” her mother greeted, smile a wonderful facade of cheeriness. “I’m glad you decided to stop hiding from me.”

The patio had never been so unwelcome a place with Madeline seated in a chair next to her mother’s, the two of them holding their teacups like they were wielding their swords and spears; no doubt while strategizing the swiftest way to ruin her life and leave her bereft of husband and children.

“Mother,” she breathed, fixing the woman with a tight smile.

Madeline swirled her hand toward Lynx, who was contentedly chewing his hand. “Oh, Diana, this one is not nearly as active as Lyra, but he’s so sweet.”

“Is that so?” Diana mused, standing to see him, gray eyes sweeping over him with a cool gaze. “He looks like your father.”

Oz leaped to the table between them, his eyes fixed on her mother’s daemon, which was lying on the arm rest.

It garnered the slightest lift of her mother’s brow, a challenge she knew all too well.

“Not really,” she quipped, adjusting Lynx closer to her breast like her mother might attempt to claw his eyes out.

“Lynx, isn’t it?” Diana asked, before sighing as she resumed her seat. “Heavens, Marisa, where do you find these odd names?”

“Constellations,” Lyra chimed in. “I like having a name no one else has. It’s special.”

Madeline smiled, patting Lyra on the back. “I agree, Lyra. I’ll give your mother that she chose wonderful names for you.”

While Lyra took that opportunity to finally meet her eyes and smile, she found herself unable to force a returned one. Instead, she brushed her hair back and avoided her daughter’s gaze as she took a seat on the stone bench across from them, keeping as much distance between her and the mothers from Hell as she could manage.

“How’s Marcel?” she asked, interrupting their gushing over Lyra. “Recovered yet?”

Her mother’s gaze could have burned her. “Oh, he’s perfect. His work within the Magisterium has become increasingly accomplished.”

Madeline looked between them curiously. “Marcel works for the Magisterium, too?”

“He’s made a career off tattling,” she quickly offered, adjusting Lynx to sit in her lap. “It’s hardly a difficult position to have.”

“Well, one can hardly blame him as Marisa gave him plenty of practice when they were younger,” Diana went on without missing a beat, that facade of pleasantness returning. “She was always plotting some nefarious thing or another.”

“Indeed?” Madeline exclaimed, eyeing her with the barest of smirks. “I’d have never guessed.”

From that point, she refused to acknowledge their conversation, contenting herself with her son as Lyra took a seat next to her, chiming in every once in a while. It was an odd sensation to be sitting with her children across from the woman who’d always told her she wouldn’t make much of a mother; who’d told her time and again that she was incapable of love.

When Lyra rested her head against her arm, she allowed her eyes to wander over the top of her daughter’s dark head and smile. To be someone so incapable of love, she felt as though her heart would explode with it; the pride and adoration she felt consuming her to the point that she was sure she’d shed off an entire layer of the armor her mother had forced her to build around her heart.

“Do you want to hold him?”

Lyra’s head popped up at that, those deep brown eyes full of delight. “Can ?”

“May I?” Diana corrected without even looking at them.

With a groan and the barest beginning of an eye roll, Lyra replied, _“May_ I?”

Lynx gave a squeal as she moved him to Lyra’s lap, his daemon fluttering around him as a moth as she helped Lyra find a good position to support him while a mouse shaped Pan scurried up Lyra’s shoulder to watch the act unfold.

“Well, Lyra, you appear to be a much better sister than your mother was,” Diana commented, sipping her tea.

Madeline could get away with it, but her mother would not be allowed such luxuries. However, before she could gather a response, Lyra had taken up the lead.

“Well, I think Lynx is probably a better brother than Uncle Marcel,” Lyra quipped as she held Lynx’s hands. “He’s not very nice and he whines all the time. I’d have probably tried to drown him if he were my brother.”

How she loved Lyra.

A light laugh escaped her as she brushed Lyra’s hair over her ear and said, “You are both much nicer than Marcel and I.”

“I’d say so,” Asriel said, startling her when his hands slipped around her shoulders and he kissed the top of her head. “I’d have drowned  _ both _ of you had you been my siblings.”

Feeling the tension seep away as though taken by the breeze, she relaxed in his arms.

“I’ve not seen you about recently,” Madeline commented, eyeing her son. “Apparently, Marisa’s not the only one hiding from her mother.”

Asriel’s grunt brought a small smile to her lips as she tangled her fingers with his. “I’ve been busy at Jordan.”

“I’m sure,” Madeline murmured, her skepticism evident in the way she looked at him over her teacup.

“If you ladies don’t mind, I’d like to borrow my wife,” he said, clearing his throat and tugging her up. “I’m afraid I’ve neglected her and need to make up for it.”

“I-“ She hesitated and looked to Lyra, who was still balancing Lynx in her lap. “Don’t move with him.”

Madeline waved them off and switched seats to sit next to Lyra. “We’ll be just fine. Won’t we, Lyra?”

Lyra grinned and quickly nodded. “I can take care of him.”

“Wonderful,” Asriel proclaimed as he began leading her down the hill toward the river, but not before she caught her mother’s reproachful glare.

“What are you doing?”

Once they had gained some distance, he said, “You looked like you needed some relief.”

“Lyra had it well in hand,” she laughed, allowing him to practically drag her. “She’s very quick with her tongue.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” He grinned as he glanced back up the hill. “Come here.”

His mouth found hers as he pressed her against a tree, trapping her between his arms.

“They’ll see us,” she murmured, turning her head to look back up the hill, leaving him room to latch onto her neck.

“No, they won’t.” He prodded her head further away as he kissed behind her ear, his hands grasping her hips to pull her harder into him. “Hence the tree.”

Stifling a small moan when his thigh slipped between hers, she wrapped an arm around his neck and slid her hand into his hair, guiding his uninhibited mouth along the column of her neck.

“Now, about that conversation we were having earlier,” he added, drawing her hips down for a delicious pass over his thigh. “About Oxford and our image.”

“For the love of-“ His teeth drew over her pulse, followed by a swipe of his tongue. “You’re not going to seduce me into a pregnancy.”

“Challenging you is what I live for, my love.”

With a roll of her eyes, she planted both hands on his chest and pushed him back enough to catch his gaze, taking note of the wild, hungry gaze with which she was presented.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” she confessed through a labored breath.

Lifting his hand to brush her hair from her face, he asked, “Why?”

A half shrug was all she managed.

“I’ll need more than that. While I’m getting better every day, you’re still about as hard a book to read as I’ve ever seen.”

Head resting back against the tree, she focused on the small leaves, counting them to even out her breathing.

“I’m barely a mother to Lyra and Lynx. I don’t think it’s fair to bring another child into the world to suffer at my hands.”

_“Suffer?”_ he repeated, grasping her chin to bring her gaze back to his. “You think Lyra suffers by being with you? That Lynx suffers when you’re the only voice he really cares for?”

“I’ll never be like your mother, Asriel.”

“I don’t want you to be,” he quickly added, his face contorted to reveal how ridiculous he found the idea. “You’re a good mother, Marisa. They wouldn’t love you if you weren’t.”

“Anyone is good compared to my mother,” she refuted. “It’s not all that difficult to one up her in Lyra’s eyes.”

“My disastrous monkey,” he whispered, kissing her cheek. “You’re being too hard on yourself. You’re a much better mother than I a father.”

“That’s not exactly a winning selling point,” she replied, pushing him back with a small smile. “We’re both horrible.”

“Possibly,” he chuckled, tipping her chin up. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting it.”

Gaze flitting over him, she shook her head. “I-“

“Come away with me,” he murmured, quickly cutting her off. “Just the two of us.”

“It’s not a good time,” she added, casting the idea right off. “And Lyra wouldn’t take well to it.”

“And here I thought _we_ were the parents,” he replied sardonically. “I wasn’t aware we needed Lyra’s permission.”

“Don’t tell Lyra that,” she laughed, fingers dancing over his brow to push his hair back.

“My love,” he pressed, hands dropping to her waist as he made sure he had her eyes. “We’ll shelve the discussion of more children, but not this. We haven’t spent any significant time alone since before Lyra moved in with you in London. Come to think of it, we’ve not been completely alone since we married. For you to claim us as two horrible parents, we’ve certainly given selflessness a whirl for the last ten months and nothing’s been burned down.”

“You’re so impossibly stubborn.”

“But you love that about me,” he chuckled with a swift peck to her lips.

“I do love you,” she sighed, all the energy drained from her.

Taking a moment to study his hopeful disposition which had him looking closer to twenty-five than thirty-five, as well as consider the fact that he was right in stating they hadn’t taken any time for themselves since she’d discovered she was pregnant, she eventually gave a single nod, bottom lip catching in her teeth before she said, “You can have three days, no further than a few hours from home at most.”

The ridiculous grin that broke out on his face nearly prompted her to take it back just to tease him.

“Deal,” he agreed, hands making quick work of the button on her slacks. “Now, where were we?”

Hands snapping over his, she leaned over to look up the hill where their mothers and children sat a handful of yards away. _“Not_ doing this.”

“My love, I’m desperate for you,” he murmured into her neck as he clutched her wrists in one hand while the other slipped inside her slacks.

A delicious warmth spread across her cheeks and belly as his fingers swiped between her folds, the muscles in her thighs and back coiling.

“You should have seen it sated in our bed last night instead of avoiding me.”

Even as the protest left her mouth, she rested her head against the tree, content to let him get her off right there in the open for anyone to stumble upon.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” he growled, nipping at her jaw as his fingers dabbled away, creating a mess. “That’s always been my problem, hasn’t it?”

Fingers making quick work of his belt and zipper, she said, “I’m fairly sure that has more to with this than anything else.”

As she said it, her fingers wrapped around his warm flesh, ready and ripe for reaping.

The way he groaned into her neck reminded her of a teenage boy getting his first handjob, all eager and willing to do anything so long as she never took her hand from his cock. It filled her with a deep satisfaction to know he still loved her touch as much now as he had a decade ago.

“It may,” he finally breathed, nudging her blouse to the side as he mouthed her breast, catching a nipple between his teeth and tugging. “Don’t ever let me be this stupid again.”

”A difficult request,” she moaned, fisting his hair as she held him close, every nerve she possessed on fire.

  
She came undone first, the sounds he pulled from her throat and slacks mixing filthily as she ground down against his palm, rocking his fingers deep as she clutched at his arm and shoulder. Then, a few minutes later, after she’d regained some semblance of composure, he found his end in her hand, hot, heavy, and spent.

“Authority help me, Marisa,” he choked into her neck, breath washing her skin as he continued to thrust into her hand even after his seed had been spilt. “I could die by your fucking hand alone.”

With an amused laugh, she wiped the moisture on her hand down his slacks and nipped at his ear, “You’d better.”

When they finally returned to the patio after having straightened their clothes and cleaned themselves up as best they could, Lyra was mid story about some fictional friend she’d made at school.

“Nice walk?” Madeline asked, a pointed lift of her brow a tell tale of her skepticism as she now held Lynx.

After a quick smile, she took a seat next to Lyra and ran a hand over her blouse as though to straighten out a wrinkle or two. “It was lovely.”

While Madeline’s skepticism could have been construed as playful, her mother’s hard gaze could not, her gray eyes still reproachful.

“Darling, why don’t you have a seat?” Madeline prompted, gesturing to the chair beside hers. “It’d be nice to talk with you.”

Asriel cleared his throat and nodded, hand flimsily gesturing toward the house. “I have-“

“Sit down, love,” she said, casting him a pointed glance. “I believe you have something to ask your mother, don’t you?”

“Oh?” Madeline sat straighter. “What is it?”

Asriel threw her an annoyed look before he took the offered seat and wiped a hand down his pants, the action drawing a smirk to her mouth at the thought that his mother probably smelled the reek of her sex on him.

“I was simply hoping you wouldn’t mind keeping the children for a few days while Marisa and I spend some time together.”

The awkwardness with which he rushed through the whole request left even her feeling like a teenager.

It was her mother rather than Madeline who responded. “What could you possibly need that for? It’s not as though you haven’t spent the last year attached at the hip.”

Nails firmly pressed against her palms, she responded, “Mother.”

“It’s just an inquiry, Marisa,” Diana replied as though offended. “You needn’t always assume I mean the worst.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t mind,” Madeline answered, ignoring them and focusing on Asriel. “I’d be delighted to have them all to myself.”

“Why are you leaving us?” Lyra asked, tiny voice drawing her gaze to find her searching her with a near watered expression.

“Oh, darling, it’s only for three days,” she assured, brushing her hair over her ear. “I promise.”

“But you only just returned,” Lyra vehemently protested. “You can’t go.”

Madeline leaned forward in her chair. “We’ll have a wonderful time, Lyra.”

“No,” Lyra whined, arms winding about her waist as she buried her face in her chest.

“Lyra,” Asriel began in a hard tone that had her gaze flickering to him in warning over before he rolled his eyes and sat back.

Wrapping her arms around Lyra, she whispered, “It’s only three days, Lyra, and you’ll spend most of it at school, anyway.”

“But what if you don’t come back?” Lyra whimpered into her blouse.

“Look at me.” She took Lyra’s face and waited until she had her dark eyes, which were shimmering with tears. “Nothing could ever keep me from you.” When Lyra didn’t seem convinced, she added with a grin and tap to her nose, “You’re my favorite daughter.”

With a roll of her eyes, Lyra swiped at her eyes and huffed, “I’m your only daughter.”

“For now,” Asriel chimed in, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The mention perked Lyra right up as she spun to look between them. “Really?”

Asriel shrugged, leaning forward and clasping his hands. “To be honest, one daughter is enough for me if they’re going to be as monkey like as you.”

“Maybe you’ll have twins next time,” Lyra giggled as Lynx gave a small squeal as though in agreement.

“Twins?” Madeline exclaimed with a chuckle. “I forget you’re a twin. That would be something.”

“You want more children?” Diana asked with surprise. “Surely not, Marisa. Motherhood was barely for you to begin with. I can’t imagine it with your ambition.”

Lips pursed, she bit at the side of her cheek to keep from growling. “Things change.”

Sure, she’d just told Asriel no, but that didn’t mean her mother had to know that. 

While her mother scoffed, Lyra tensed beside her, drawing her eyes to find her daughter staring at her mother with a hard frown.

“And what about your work? Your position?” Diana went on, pressing the issue. “I do believe I raised you to be more than another housewife, some fickle woman content to mind children and a man.”

“I think being a mother is the highest position a woman can have,” Madeline offered, looking between the two of them. “That is what you did, isn’t it, Diana?” 

The tight faced glance her mother gave to Madeline would have halted most. “I did not have the advantages I made sure Marisa has had.” Her mother looked back to her like she was becoming as insignificant as Marcel has always been. “But she seems content to continue to throw them away for that man.”

“That man,” she breathed heavily, enunciating each word. “Has endured hell because you broke me into a thousand pieces and spent my entire life telling me I was incapable of love; that I was incapable of being loved.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic, girl,” Diana huffed with a flourish of her hand to sign the insignificance. “You’re meant for more than demeaning yourself to being a simple mother and wife. Why on earth do you think I spent so much time molding you from a rebellious, wicked little girl into what you are now? Correcting your mistakes? Taking that girl in?” Diana leaned forward as she thrust a hand at Lyra. “I did it because you’re weak, Marisa; because that man came along, threw the word love at you, and you were ready to sacrifice everything we’d spent your entire life planning for him and that girl; for love.”

“You fucking evil bitch!” she spat, finding herself suddenly on her feet as the rage poured out of her. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have married him and spent the last nine years raising my daughter!”

“Marisa,” Asriel called, finding his own feet as Lynx’s sudden wailing brought her back from placing her hands around her mother’s throat, but it didn’t deter her mother at all.

“If it wasn’t for me, you’d have spent your entire life begging for scraps and thrusting your twisted mind onto others just like your worthless father.”

Ignoring her mother, she stepped forward and held out her hands for her son, completely avoiding Madeline’s eyes. 

“You’ve lived your entire life doing everything you could to rebel against what I’ve tried to give you.”

As she gathered Lynx up, she turned to her mother and spat, “And what have you tried to give me other than a skewed view of the world? A life devoid of anything with real meaning? You withheld affection from to the point that when Asriel gave it to me, I didn’t even know what it was. I couldn’t even tell him that I loved him because you had ripped every ounce of compassion from my soul.”

“Enough,” Asriel growled, hand suddenly on her back and voice at her ear as he slipped Lynx from her arms into his. “Marisa, go inside.”

“Yes, Marisa, obey your husband,” Diana scoffed. “Run away and hide again as your career turns to ashes, but it’ll be alright because you’ve decided to pretend you’re a mother after ten years and not a self-harming deviant like your father.”

Spinning on her heel, she made to lunge at her mother only to be caught around the waist by Asriel just as Oz was caught around the neck by Stel. As his free arm hauled her back, she found herself shouting, “I fucking hate you.”

“Marisa, you will not stand there and act as though I’m the one who brought on your shame, your sin. I raised you to be strong and you let him ruin you when he put that bastard inside you.”

Nails biting at Asriel’s arm, she shook her head. “My only sin was being born to a heartless woman who was more concerned with her status than protecting her daughter from her own father.”

“Protect you?” her mother scoffed. “You have no idea what that man was like; what he did.”

“I was fourteen years old when he began exchanging me for favors, taking me into that study and leaving me there with his friends so they could do as they wished.”

“And I killed him for it,” her mother shouted, rising to her feet as though taken over, leaving them eye to eye, chests heaving as their emotions completely overwhelmed them.

What felt like a thousand heartbeats passed between them as the words settled, no one moving, no one even breathing it seemed.

“What?” she finally muttered, eyes flickering over her mother’s surprised expression as the memory of her father’s lifeless body flashed through her mind. “He fell down the staircase and broke his neck.”

Never before had she seen her mother more startled, more at a loss for words.

“I’m afraid I must excuse myself,” Diana muttered, grabbing the chair for support as she turned toward the house and began quickly leaving.

Shoving Asriel’s arm away despite his protests, she made to follow her mother, catching her in the parlor as she brought her coat over her shoulders.

“You shoved him down the stairs, didn’t you?” she stated as her mother made for the door. “Answer me.”

Before her mother could get the door fully open, she bolted forward and slammed it shut, blocking her mother from leaving.

“Why would you do that?” she asked, eyes dancing over the pale woman she’d hated her entire life. “You never cared about me so don’t you dare pretend whatever you did was for me.”

“You are my child, you ungrateful girl,” Diana snapped, hard gray eyes sweeping to hers. “Whatever you may think of me, Marisa, whatever mistakes you believe I made, I was not going to let that... that monster...”

The words once again fell away between them, leaving her to attempt to shift her view of that fateful night all those years ago.

“You killed him because of me,” she finally whispered, unsure she actually believed it.

“Would you do any less for your daughter?”

Eyes burning, she shook her head, unable to process it.

“You were meant to be better than the rest of them, Marisa, to show them all that women were more than tools in the world of men.” Diana sighed and straightened her shoulders. “I wasn’t fortunate enough to have a mother with expectations. She sold me off to your depraved father at the first opportunity she had; like a mare at auction to the highest bidder. Then, he did what he liked and took every ounce of the little self-respect I had. He forced the two of you inside me and laughed while he did it. He was a sick, twisted man.”

Eyes falling away, she murmured, “That is no excuse for what you’ve done to me.”

“From that first breath you took, you mirrored him. That thirst for power and control; that manipulative spirit you had as you tortured your brother for fun. I was terrified that I’d given birth to the very monster who’d forced you inside me.”

Completely drained, she staggered back and shook her head. “You tortured me because of what I _might_ become.”

“But you never felt worthless, did you?” Diana carried on, jaw once again set. “You were never without opportunity. You rebelled and you challenged and I gave it right back to you because I knew it would do you well in the future. I molded that darkness inside you so it would benefit you instead of destroy you, Marisa.”

“That’s insane,” she snapped, regaining her footing. “You denied me affection, empathy. You are the one who made me into a monster, not him.”

“Perhaps.” Her mother’s fingers crept under her chin, lifting her eyes. “I was eighteen years old when I had you and he’d already broken me. So, I made you hard so you would survive; so you wouldn’t know heartache, or loss as I did.”

“You took my child from me,” she finally managed, nails biting into her palms as she found her voice again. “You stood there and watched me try to kill myself because you took Lyra.”

“Because you were broken, Marisa,” Diana admitted softly. “What were you going to do for that girl? I made you harder than I ever was. You were suicidal, yes, but you’ve always been that way. You’ve always gone to extremes when it comes to your compulsions. You’d have destroyed her as surely as I destroyed you.”

Mouth dry and throat aching from the pressure of trying to swallow down her rage and grief, she whispered, “I loved her.”

“And I loved you,” Diana swiftly replied. “But love only gets you so far, dear girl. Surely, you’ve learned that by now? You weren’t equipped for motherhood. I didn’t equip you for that because I prayed to the Authority every day you’d never bare a child; that you’d never have the opportunity to inflict that obsessive compulsion to harm onto a child.”

“You robbed Lyra and I of eight years, six of which you took for yourself. I’ll never forgive you for that.”

“I won’t apologize for Lyra. She is a balanced, secure girl.” Diana gave a half sad smile. “She’s what you should have been. I raised her as I would have raised you had you been...”

Her mother’s eyes softened as she lifted a hand to her cheek, wiping the damp places.

“I won’t apologize for doing what I thought was best.”

“Marisa.”

Eyes darting to Asriel, who was lingering in the doorway to the living room, she sucked in a staggered breath and nodded.

“You didn’t equip me for it,” she whispered, hand on the doorknob as she lifted her gaze back to her mother. “But I’m equipped nonetheless.” Opening the door, she finished, “I’m a _good_ mother and my children love me because that man you hate so much restored what you broke.”

Diana stared at her for another dozen heartbeats before she too nodded, lips pursed as she stepped from the house, leaving her to close the door, back resting against it as her eyes found Asriel’s again.

Five long strides was all it took and his arms were around her, lifting her up as her legs gave out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. This was a pain to edit because I obsess over it too much and couldn’t find a good middle place to split it.
> 
> Also, I just made a Masriel video on YouTube that took up a bit of time. I did it with an app on my phone so it’s not the best, but... effort’s what counts lol.
> 
> It’s a Halsey song labeled as ‘Marisa x Asriel - Coming Down’. Check it out!


	17. The Downpour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long to get up. Life hit hard for the last few weeks and then I fell into a rut of having absolutely zero words in my head. Thank you all for staying invested. It means so much to me!

The quiet shuffling outside the bedroom door kept her ears as she watched the shadows sway along the hardwood floor, the curtains and leaves of the trees mingling as though one as they danced back and forth with the gentle breeze coming through the balcony doors.

Time passed by, the length of it unknown, and she found her thoughts continually drifting back, the memories of her youth attempting to refile themselves to fit within the boxes she’d neatly placed her childhood.

For years, she’d taken what she’d experienced, all the pain and anguish from her youth and even her affair with Asriel, and used it to build a persona of elegance and impenetrable fortitude that had replaced the absence of affection for raw power and prestige. People feared her, admired her, wanted her. Everything had its place, it’s use. Work and reputation came before love, compassion, or even morality. She’d stepped on whomever she needed to, destroyed lives, all for the upper hand.

Now, though, she felt as though everything had spiraled out of her control and her power had slipped into near non-existence; like it had been stripped from her at the mere thought of trying to balance love and fear.

The first nail had come with unintentionally allowing Lyra to completely demolish the wall in which Asriel had began to crack so long ago. She’d gone from indifference toward the child she’d allowed to be taken from her to feeling as though she’d suffocate without her. Lyra’s love and need for her had taken her to places at which she’d once turned her nose down and she was still unsure when that shift had occurred. It had snuck up on her like a thief in the night, rooting around for the smallest mustard seed of care and grown into an entire forest of thick, impenetrable walls of the sturdiest stock.

Then, there was all the time, the _years_, she’d spent working to see her project pushed through to fruition. All the red tape of the Magisterium had either been stepped over or manipulated around and for what? To now have doubts as to its morality all because a few dreams had woken her at night? Because of the absolute zero possibility that Lyra would ever end up there without her willing consent? It was the most irrational and ridiculous feeling she’d ever had and, yet, it haunted her steps as closely as her own daemon, who was curled up out of her sight, knowing to stay away from her lest she pour all her present misery into his flesh.

And finally, this new revelation with her mother. That the woman had actually had her best interests at heart, skewed as it may have been... It was as though the entire world had shifted on its axis and she couldn’t find anything to hold her to the ground. Every memory she called forth to make sense of her newfound knowledge seemed to break under scrutiny, allowing fresh light to be applied to them.

Her conflicted solitude was disrupted by light footsteps in the hallway before the door opened and closed with a gentle click. Then, Asriel was at her side again as he had been off and on throughout her self-imposed confinement to their bedroom.

“Marisa?” Asriel’s soft murmur was accompanied by his fingers brushing her cheek, the gentle touch drawing more of those undesirable feelings to the surface. “You must be hungry. It’s been hours.”

Eyes caught on a particular shadow, she curled her fingers in the sheets, unwilling to meet his gaze. She already knew what it looked like. Asriel was many things, but a man who knew how to fix this, he was not. The uncertainty plaguing his features was as clear in her mind as anything could be.

“Marisa,” he went on, his voice tinged with that softness he reserved for her alone. “Tell me what you need.”

“I’m just...” she whispered, voice cracking as Stel curled at her back, the hard press of her lithe form a mix of comfort and agony. “Tired.”

What she really wanted couldn’t be given. She wanted to return to ignorance, a quality she’d never have associated with herself until now. Because having a mother who loved her, protected her, through hatred and condemnation was harder than having a mother who simply hated her for existing. Such a mother required a different approach, a different touch.

His sigh came just as a soft knock at the door sounded and he shifted to look in that direction.

“Mama?”

Eyes falling closed, she shook her head and buried her face further into her pillow as the bed shifted at Asriel’s standing and his feet carried him toward the door.

Their soft murmurs couldn’t be made out, but she could tell Lyra was frustrated by her tone.

“Lyra,” she heard him call as quick footsteps and then heavier ones right after floated down the hallway. Stel was quick to follow.

When all was quiet again, she closed her eyes and fell back into memory.

_The Magisterium officials stood off to one side of the grave as the final words of the officiate drifted through the small, family plot. Her mother was quiet, staring straight ahead with Marcel standing diligently at her side like the good son he played at being._

_Her fathers had been the first lifeless body she’d ever seen and his daemonless form had struck a burning curiosity within her over where it had went. A shell without its soul. It was such an odd thing, the likes of which drew her gaze to her curious daemon, who was perched at the edge of the plot._

_What might her life be like without him to ruin everything?_

_“Marisa,” her mother called, holding out her hand in a beckoning fashion. “Come closer, dear.”_

_As much as she didn’t want to, she took her mother’s smooth, cold hand and allowed her mother to bring it close to her chest as her gaze returned to the plot._

_“It’s just us, now,” her mother whispered._

Unable to just lie around any longer, she pushed herself up from the bed, snatched a throw from the back of a chair, and slipped through the balcony doors.

The cool evening air was a welcome reprieve from the claustrophobic presence she’d felt in her room and she embraced it, hoping it would clear her thoughts enough to finally find some rest.

As she took a seat in one of the chairs, she drew her legs up and settled her chin on her knee, eyes trained out over the ledge on the fading skyline.

Dark clouds disrupted what was left of the pinks and purples barely visible with the sun now gone, signaling a rough night to come.

“I think we can rule out any joint family dinners in the future,” Asriel said, drawing her gaze as he came through the doors and handed her a glass of wine. “I’m not sure the world could handle it.”

A small chuckle slipped from her as she pulled the thin blanket tighter around her shoulders to stave off the chill in the air.

“Lyra?”

He grinned and leaned against the balcony’s ledge, twirling his glass so the red within would stir, as he answered, “Tucked in, but thoroughly put out with me for not being permitted to see you.”

Resting her head against the seat back, she wiped a hand down her eyes. “I’m just not sure I could handle the dozens of questions she’d ask.”

His grunt was all she received before he added, “My mother put Lynx down.”

The fact that his mother was a presence in their home at all had slipped her mind for the last few hours, drawing a groan from her as she muttered, “Oh, I’m sure she’s pleased with this afternoon’s entertainment.”

A few heartbeats hurtled by before he gruffly responded, “She’s not a complete monster, Marisa.”

Finally meeting his gaze again, she soaked in the irritation pouring off him and asked, “But my mother is?”

With a deep sigh, he sipped his glass before setting it down and crossing his arms; his gaze cutting her with its searching intent. “Apparently not.”

Unable to stand his inspection, she allowed her head to fall back once more and chose instead to study the forming of the night sky above them.

“My mind keeps trying to adjust, make everything fit.” She rolled her head along the chair back and laughed for fear that if she did anything else, she’d dissolve into tears. “I feel like I’m losing who I am. Everything has changed so much.”

“You regret that?”

“You once asked me if I’d throw it all away for this, for you and Lyra.” Her eyes danced between the constellations, unable to really focus on any of them. “The truth is, I think I would, but then I think... everything I’m doing at The Station, I’m just trying to make the world a better place for Lyra and Lynx. I don’t want them to have regrets, to live with...”

_“Sin?”_ he finished for her and she could hear the distaste for the term in the inflection he placed on the syllable. “Do you think we’re still sinning by being together?”

“Of course not,” she groaned, dropping her gaze to his colder one. “But it will always be our root.”

“Then, if this is where it led, it can’t all be bad, Marisa.”

The frustration in his gaze should have stopped her. This had always been such a touchy topic for them, one sure to lead them down a jagged path of petty jabs which would only increase in their depravity the longer they went on.

“Tell that to Edward,” she softly muttered. “Or my father.”

And there it was. The dreaded mention she knew Asriel had been waiting for. The answer to all the questions he’d asked her over the years. She knew he’d puzzled it out by now, shuffling part of the blame for who and how she was closer to her father’s feet when it had almost solely been at her mother’s feet until today.

“He was the reason, you know?” she tiredly went on, a bitter taste left from the memories creeping up her throat. ”When I’d do something he approved of, he’d say, ‘That’s my good, little monkey.’” She scoffed, lifting the glass to her lips. “Like I was a _fucking_ performer at the circus.”

“You didn’t say anything-“

  
“I told you numerous times I didn’t like being called that,” she retorted, eyes shifting to him.  
  


“And I was supposed to take that _as_ serious or _less_ serious than all the times you told me you hated me? That I was nothing to you? Your wants are about as clear as mud, Marisa.”  


  
Leave it to Asriel to still have to be right when she was preparing to bare her soul to him. The man truly could not help himself. “What was I supposed to say, Asriel? We weren’t exactly sharing those parts of ourselves when we started our affair.”

“That can’t be the only reason you hate him.”  His eyes flickered to their daemons, huddled together a few feet away, Oz’s golden body buried in the soft fur of Stel’s chest as she nuzzled his neck. At the mention, the daemon lifted his head to meet Asriel’s eyes, the dark depths instantly moved to emotion, as if he were learning for the first time that she hated him and hadn’t known it for nearly twenty years.

“Marcel’s daemon settled first.” After taking a sip of her wine, she rolled her eyes. “He was so proud of that; that he’d finally beat me at something. The idiot bragged about it every chance he got and our parents were so enamored with his daemon. Owls are common enough, but one like his...” She clicked her tongue. “Well, she certainly catches the eye.”

Asriel’s uncharacteristic silence called her to look to him to find his gaze still lingering on their entwined daemons.

“Mine settled later than usual, just after I turned fourteen.” Leaning her head back again, she spat, “‘So _rare’,_ my father bragged. ‘So beautiful’. He showed me off to everyone, began to dote on me. I suppose he finally realized I had value and wanted to profit from such an opportunity.” Fingering the cool glass, she went on with a quick sigh as though she were discussing an insignificant occurrence during tea time, “And that’s when it started. He instructed me what to say, what to do... He’d take me to parties with him, spend the evening getting drunk with his friends, and then... one lucky investor would barter my company for the remainder of the evening.”

The knot in her throat grew, but she refused to allow it permit.

“That wasn’t your fault, Marisa.”

“Wasn’t it?” she asked rather dejectedly, meeting his eyes. “I loved the spotlight, Asriel. Then and now. I craved the attention and, after a while, the discomfort of the rest sort of... drifted off.” She smiled with a shrug. “I locked it away inside  _him_ and made the best of an otherwise distasteful situation.”

“And now it’s working it’s way to the surface again?” He crossed his arms as he studied her like he was taking in a new exhibit. “He’s your soul, Marisa. You can’t just lock that part of yourself away. You need him.”

Rolling her eyes, she thrust a hand toward their daemons, her voice dropping dangerously. “No, I don’t and neither do you. Daemons are the worst parts of us. They settle and everything changes, all this sin, guilt, and regret. Everything’s on _fucking_ display for the world to see and no one seems to understand or acknowledge how unfair that is; how degrading and humiliating it is to have your every thought or barest flicker of emotion right there for the taking. It’s their fault, Asriel, and the world would be a much better place without them here to drag us down.”

“Tell that to Lyra,” he countered, voice rising in volume as he gestured in the same direction. “Pantalaimon is her voice of reason. If it weren’t for him, she’d be far more reckless than she already is. Do you want to take that from her?”

_“Don’t_ bring Lyra into this,” she bit at him.

Shoving himself away from the ledge, he moved to position himself right in her face, his heated breath only fueling the flames between them. “I will bring my daughter into whatever I like.” He snatched her chin between his fingers and held her face so firmly she couldn’t have looked away if she tried. “Are you going to put her in that machine and cut her away from her soul, Marisa?”

“What is so wrong with wanting to preserve her innocence?” she snapped, shoving to her feet so as to remove herself from his overbearing presence.

  
Why couldn’t he understand?

“But it wouldn’t just be innocence. You would deprive her of  life, Marisa. Free will and choice. You would deprive her of the mistakes she needs to make in order to grow into what she’s meant to be. Our mistakes are what mold us as much as anything else.”

“And what is she meant to be, Asriel?” she asked, spinning to face him with her hands held out. “You prefer her to suffer? To endure the unbearable pain of loss?”

“I would prefer her to choose what she wants from life rather than be dictated to like a dog, but that’s why you fit in so well with the Magisterium, isn’t it?” he sneered, as though he were as disgusted with her as he’d always been with them. It radiated off him in waves and crashed upon her like a thousand hot blades to her gut. “You want to take people’s choice away, their ability to think for themselves. You want to have absolute control.”

“Not everyone is fit enough to think for themselves.”

“And if Lyra is chosen a husband... a bland, insignificant man...” He held up a hand like he was asking for a tangible answer to be placed in it. “You’d just want her to stay with him? You’d want her to stay with an Edward and never allow her the choice of love?”

“This isn’t about us, Asriel.”

“Of course, it is,” he shouted in exasperation, throwing his hands up. “You decided to shut your heart away so you wouldn’t experience pain and, between Lyra and I, it’s been burst wide open and you don’t want to handle it. You want to cut it out and be done with it and pray you fixed it before anyone saw that you’re capable of such a thing.”

  
  
If she didn’t love him so much, she’d hate him. 

“And what if I do? What is so _wrong_ with wanting my life to go back to normal?”

“Normal?” he scoffed and turned to brace himself against the ledge, hands gripping the cement. “Ah, yes, the infamous Mrs. Coulter, ever needing control.”

“Don’t fucking call me that, Asriel,” she snapped, throwing her glass to shatter at his feet.

Her loss of all control had shattered in the same instant, leaving her to gasp for breath as she leaned over the edge, wishing the ground would reach up and grab her.

“It’s who you are, isn’t it?” Stel growled, from her place which was now at his side as Oz remained a distance from them, the two daemons finally being torn apart by the flames licking at their counterparts.

Unable to hold the leopard’s hard gaze, she turned away and said, “No, you made sure of that.”

He leaned back against the ledge again, arms folded, his expression stony and indifferent. “Now, it’s my fault?”

The incredulity in his voice would have been amusing had she not been so furious.

“Yes, Asriel, it is all your fault.” She spun back to him, eyes filled to the brim with tears she dared to fall. “Ever since you left that fucking picture of Lyra for me to find, my life has been _nothing_ but disorder and chaos.”

Asriel laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “Is that regret, Marisa? You wish you’d never found her?”

“What would have been so wrong with that?” she asked, voice softening. “Everyone was fine before you barged back into my life. My mother cared for her. I had my work and you... you could still be running around spouting your heretical nonsense.”

“Well, you know where the door is, Marisa,” he offered, holding his hand out. “I’m not going to beg you to stay. So, feel free to find it after telling your daughter you don’t want her anymore.”

Heart pounding beneath her breast, she shook her head as the urge to slap him surfaced. “That’s not what I said-“

“You don’t want me?”

Lyra’s voice was like a punch to the gut.

At the doors, there she stood, face a picture of devastation.

“Lyra,” she whispered, rooted to the spot as though she’d been planted there.

It was like watching a scene unfold while being strapped to a chair with a gag in her mouth. Before she could get another word out, Lyra had fled the room.

“Lyra,” she called, somehow finding her feet and voice over the blood suddenly rushing in her ears and started for the door.

By the time she’d reached the hallway, Lyra’s bedroom door had slammed, the echo permeating the walls of the house.

When she arrived, she quickly attempted to enter, but found it locked and unmoving. “Lyra, darling, I didn’t mean- Open the door.”

“Go away,” was the answer she received as something fell inside the room and broke.

“I’ll fetch the key from Thorold.”

As Asriel ran down the stairs, she braced herself against the door. 

“Lyra, you misunderstood,” she pleaded, tugging at the door knob as though it would magically open. “Of course, I want you.”

When no answer was given, she pressed her head to the wood and held back the sob that had been clamoring for an escape.

“Lyra, please, just... let me explain.”

“Here,” Asriel, short of breath, panted as he held up a key and quickly inserted it into the door before twisting it open.

An empty room greeted them.

“Lyra,” she called, perplexed as she entered the room further, gaze flitting everywhere, but not truly focusing on anything.

“Careful, Lyra.”

Swiveling toward the open window, Pan’s voice drew her in its direction, Oz already there with a howl as he clamored to the ledge.

“Lyra,” she screamed, grasping the balcony as she peered over the edge to find Lyra dropping to the ground and taking off through the gardens.

“She has your flair for the dramatic, doesn’t she?” Asriel commented from her side as Lyra and Pan disappeared into the trees.

“Asriel,” she breathed, feeling her heart ready to burst. “Please.”

“Come along,” he urged, catching her by the elbow and starting for the door. “She won’t have gotten far.”

* * *

  
  


Rain pelted against the car as she waited for Asriel to finish speaking with the group of Gyptians at the river bank.

Head falling into her hand, she sighed. They’d been searching for over an hour with no trace of Lyra. Her usual haunts had come up empty and now Asriel was consulting with the Gyptians who resided a few miles up the road from their home. He hadn’t really thought she’d have gotten this far in this weather, but as they’d had no luck elsewhere, they were now edging farther out.

Oz’s whimper from the opposite seat drew a hot glare from her as she caught him by the back of the neck and dragged him across the seat to her side.

If she could just be rid of him, none of this would be happening. If they didn’t find Lyra, she’d strangle the life out of him.

  
  
Just then, the door opened and and Asriel fell into the seat and shook the water from his hair as he slammed the door shut.

“They saw her running up the bank about an hour ago.”

“They saw her?” she asked, turning to him quickly as she released Oz from her grip.

“Head for the Costa’s, Thorold,” Asriel ordered as he shifted his legs for Stel to sit between more comfortably.

“As in that nurse?”

“The very same,” he muttered, wiping a hand down his face to catch the excess water as the car started forward. “I should have known she’d go there.”

Silence settled between them as the rain bore down on them from above. She felt like her entire being was dissolving into a desperate grasp for air.

“I can’t believe she just... ran away.”

“Something else she inherited from you,” he grunted, adjusting his coat.

His flippant attitude struck against her last remaining nerve. “Fuck you, Asriel.”

“I do believe fucking me is why your life is so miserable, my love.” He glanced to her with an annoyed look. “Or did I misunderstand your meaning in the same way Lyra did?”

Refusing to acknowledge his dig at her, she turned to the window and forced the knot in her throat down again as her fingers settled in her daemon’s fur.

However, Asriel’s hand clasped tightly over hers, jerking her grip free as he closed the distance between them.

_“Stop,”_ he growled, pinning her hand across her body as his arm swallowed her front, the dampness soaking the sides and front of her blouse and slacks. “Don’t let me see you hurting him again.”

Struggling against him, she found herself trapped with no means of escape. “That’s none of your business.”

“Everything about you is my business, Marisa,” he breathed into her ear, his hot breath a stark contrast to the freezing water dripping from his face against her skin. “Don’t you understand that? Don’t you understand that I love you as deeply as I love my own soul, that I love him as recklessly as I love her?”

“Stop,” she whimpered, weakly clawing at his arm as she attempted to lean away from him. “Please, let me go.”

“No,” he murmured into her hair, clinging to her more tightly. “When you hurt him, you hurt me, my love, and I’m done watching it.”

“I can’t-“

“Yes, you can,” he encouraged, loosening his grip and allowing his fingers to gently draw her face toward him. “You have to if you want to be their mother. You have to let him back in.”

To deepen his conviction, he used his free hand to scoop her daemon to his breast between them, the touch practically scalding her.

”Asriel, I can’t breathe,” she gasped, digging her nails into his arm. “Stop.”

”Don’t you love me, Marisa?”

Startled by the desperation clinging to his voice, she stilled in his arms. “What? Of- of course, I do.”

”How can you?” he murmured, blue eyes darting all over her face. “How can you love me when you hate half my being?”

”That’s-“ She shook her head, too tired to fight with him this way. “That’s not fair.”

  
  
“The Costa’s, sir,” Thorold called from the front seat.

As Asriel’s gaze jerked up to the window, her daemon slipped from between them and permitted her room to sit up to spy the lights from the boat just off the bank.

”I’ll go fetch her,” Asriel spoke as he raised up off her and reached for his door.

“No, I’m coming, too,” she quickly said, hand already on the handle.

The rain was like little needles as it met her skin, prompting her to draw her coat tighter around her as Thorold was quick to bring an umbrella over her head, but his steps were outmatched by her own as the urgency to find Lyra overtook her.

“Marisa, slow down,” Asriel yelled over the downpour, catching her by the arm in a firm grip just as she reached the boat’s side. “Let me help you before you injure yourself.”

After he’d vaulted over the ledge, he held out a hand to help her steady as she crossed, being careful to not allow her to slip on the boat’s surface. When he had her close again, he turned to the door and rapped his knuckles hard against the wood.

Oz, for his part, huddled close to the door, attempting to block some of the downpour as Stel circled them anxiously.

Shuffling could be heard inside and, as they waited, she found her gaze searching around the area, scanning the many boats glittering down the river. She’d never been to an area so littered with Gyptians before and she found herself wondering how an entire group of people could live this way. It unnerved her that she’d allowed Lyra to freely roam amongst these people without supervision. Anything in the world could have happened to her.

“She’s here, Marisa,” the leopard assured as if reading her thoughts. “She’s fine.”

Then, sudden light penetrated the darkness as the door was cracked open to reveal a tall, lanky boy with dark hair. When his eyes caught sight of Asriel, they widened and he seemed to struggle for words.

“Lo-Lord Asriel?”

“Tony,” Asriel greeted gruffly, pushing the door further open without waiting for permission and tugging her along with him as they entered the small, inner room.

It was a cluttered abode, she noticed, as her eyes flickered around, barely taking in the details as she searched for sight of Lyra while attempting to ignore the chill of the soaked clothing clinging to her skin.

“Is my daughter here, Tony?” Asriel asked,pushing his hair back with a sweep of his hand as his boots squeaked along the floor. “I was told she ran this way.”

“I, uh-“ the boy stuttered, backing away from Asriel and Stel as though they’d just jumped out at him.

“Bring him back, Tony,” called a feminine voice from further back in the boat.

“Th-this way, sir,” Tony stammered before leading them on with hesitant glances over his shoulder as he walked.

Asriel wasted no time following the boy and began pulling her along as if she couldn’t move of her own accord.

Soft murmurs drifted toward them and she found her grip on Asriel’s hand tighten as the more frantic one dawned on her to be Lyra’s.

“Please, don’t make me-“

“It’s Lyra’s parents, ma,” Tony informed, coming to a stop in the kitchen area and standing off so they could continue on.

That was when she saw her, freshly dressed in a red shirt shoved up to her elbows with overalls pulled over it; the only sign she’d encountered the storm being her half damp hair.

“Lyra,” she whispered, unconsciously tugging free of Asriel and moving toward her daughter.

“Leave me alone,” Lyra growled, shuffling further back in her seat, causing her to come up so short she may as well have slammed into a wall.

“I was going to return her as soon as the weather let up a little,” the woman said, brushing Lyra’s hair back, conjuring a hot jealousy to stir in her belly at the way Lyra leaned into it and Pan seemed to remain behind her in his moth form. “She showed up a short while ago, completely soaked and distraught. We were just warming her up.”

“Thank you,” Asriel offered from close behind her. “They told us upriver she might be here.”

“And I’m staying here,” Lyra spat, fists clenched as her arms wrapped around herself. “I’m not going anywhere with either of you.”

Words wouldn’t come to her, leaving Asriel to respond, his voice hard and leaving little room for argument. “Your mother and I have been searching for you for over an hour. You will get up this instant, Lyra Belacqua.”

“My name is Lyra Delamare,” Lyra responded, clearly not bothered by the warning in her father’s tone. “And I don’t have a mother or father. You’re both liars.”

Heart crawling up her throat, she shook her head and started forward again, paying little mind to Lyra’s death glare or Stel’s deep growl.

“I know you’re angry and confused, but what you heard wasn’t for you to hear.”

“I’m glad I heard it. That way I know the truth since you don’t ever tell it.”

“The truth?” she echoed in confusion, pausing just out of reach of her daughter. “What truth?”

Lyra seemed to take a moment to shove back a sob before she righted herself and explained, “That you’re just pretending to want me. That you wished you’d never found me and you could go back to the way things were before.”

“I don’t want that, Lyra,” she quickly denied, squatting to Lyra’s level in the chair. “Darling, you’re everything to me. I love you more than anything.”

“You’re a liar,” Lyra shouted, jumping up and moving to stand closer to the other woman. “I heard you say you wished you’d never found me.”

“That’s not what I said,” came her protest bubbling from her chest as Pan dropped to the floor from a moth to badger form, teeth bared at Oz who was watching him from the kitchen table.

“I’d rather stay here and be a Gyptian than ever go with you again with your stupid dresses and stupid school. I don’t want to be anything like you!”

“Enough,” Asriel grunted as he reached past the Costa woman and took Lyra by the shoulders before lifting her up.

“_Let me go!_” Lyra screamed, pounding against his chest as she kicked out. “Ma Costa, don’t let them take me!”

“Asriel,” she started, reaching to touch Lyra’s back for fear she’d hurt herself. “Don’t-“

“Thank you, Maggie,” Asriel dismissed, as he adjusted his arms around Lyra’s flailing arms to trap her. “We’re sorry for this disturbance.”

“It’s not a problem,” Maggie responded, a worried expression permeating her features as Asriel turned toward the door without waiting for a response.

Before she could turn to follow, the woman caught her by the arm. “She loves you very much. She’s just confused.”

Jaw tightening at the woman’s warm expression, she stepped away from the touch and bit, “I don’t need your reassurance. I know my daughter.”

Not waiting for a response, she turned to catch up with her husband and still squealing child.

By the time they were back in the car, Lyra had screamed her throat dry, drawing lights from the other boats in their direction.

“Lyra, darling-“

“Don’t baby her, Marisa,” Asriel grunted, shuffling Lyra to sit between them as Thorold opened the door for Stel and Oz to sit up front while Pan screeched from between Stel’s jaws in the form of a weasel as Oz patted his head.

Lyra’s thrashing caught her in the jaw as an arm slipped loose of Asriel and she made to exit past her.

“For fuck’s sake,” Asriel growled, roughly tugging Lyra by the back of her overall straps and swirling her to face him as he bent her arm back. “Stop it, now, or I will break your arm.”

Not to be deterred, Lyra spat in his face to which he snarled and tightened his hold.

“Asriel, enough,” she interjected before he completely lost his temper, shoving him back at the shoulder while pulling Lyra closer to her. “Let her go.”

“Fine,” he shouted, releasing Lyra altogether as he roughly wiped a hand down his face. “You deal with her. If she gets away from you, I’m not chasing after her again.”

Lyra let out another scream at him right before she caught her daughter’s face and turned it toward her.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

“Hate me if you like,” she said as calmly as she could what with the throbbing along her jawline. “Hate us both, but you will calm down.”

“No, I won’t.”

“I thought you loved your brother, Lyra?”

At that, Lyra went completely still and stared up at her, brow creasing as though confused.

“Are you going to run away and leave him all alone?” She titled her head to fully catch Lyra’s eyes. “What will become of him with such awful parents as us?”

Asriel grunted as he shifted to pull his coat out from under Lyra, who only shrugged as her head fell forward and her breaths began to stutter.

“I just- I want-“

“I know, darling,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around Lyra to hold her close as she began to shiver. “I’m so sorry.”

While Lyra collapsed against her amidst a wave of sobs, Asriel sighed and shoved his hair back.

“Here,” he quipped lowly, roughly jerking his coat off and draping it around Lyra’s quivering form.

The chill felt as though it were seeping into her bones as she rested her chin atop Lyra’s hair and began running her hands up and down her back in an attempt to draw some warmth to her.

”I hate everything,” Lyra murmured into her blouse as she sobbed, small arms clutching at her waist. “It’s not fair.”

”I know,” she whispered, catching Asriel’s conflicted expression. “I know.”

  
  
Her husband sighed as he pushed closer to them and tucked the hair sticking all over her face back before kissing her forehead.  
  


“Get us home, Thorold.”

* * *

  
By the time they’d pulled back up at the manor, Lyra’s shaking from tears had ceased only to be continued from the chill of her soaking clothes, despite the warmth of Asriel’s coat.

The moment the car came to a halt, Asriel took their daughter up in his arms as she hurried ahead of him to ready a bath for her and exchange her soaked clothing for a bathrobe. After he’d set Lyra down, he murmured something about the windows and disappeared.

Throughout the entire ordeal, Lyra stayed quiet, allowing her to bathe her, dress her, and put her to bed without so much as a peep.

Pan, for his part, had at least settled back into his usual ermine form as he curled into Lyra’s pillow.

“There,” she murmured, tugging the blankets over Lyra and patting them around her. “Are you warm?”

When no response came, she gave a heavy sigh and forced a smile. “I believe it would be best if you stayed home from school, tomorrow. Would you like that?”

The lack of acknowledgment brought a soft growl from Oz as he hopped up on the end of the bed to peer at Lyra and Pan. Neither of them were used to being ignored and weren’t quite sure how to handle it.

If it were anyone else, she’d have snapped by now, but with Lyra, she couldn’t bring the same response forward.

  
  
“I’m sorry about today, that your visit with your grandmother was ruined,” she offered softly as she sat down beside Lyra. “I regret it happened. I know how much you care for her.”

While Pan lifted his head to look at her, Lyra turned her face away.

“I know you don’t believe me, but there’s no other place I’d rather you be, Lyra,” she whispered, pushing damp hair from Lyra’s eyes, prompting her daughter to roll completely away from her to face the wall.

The action drew a surge of pain to her heart, but she knew there was little else that could be said.

“Alright,” she murmured, pushing herself up.

It wasn’t until she was readying to leave that she heard the first sound come from her daughter since the car.

“I don’t ever want to see her again.” The strangled sound of Lyra’s voice brought her up short of turning fully away. “She can be alone forever for all I care.”

Unsure if Lyra wanted a response, she eased back down on the edge of the bed and laid a hand over Lyra’s arm.

“It’s all my fault.”

“What is?”

“I asked for her to visit,” Lyra whimpered, fingers gripping the blankets as she rolled to her back, revealing her tear streaked face. “I ruined everything.”

“No,” she quickly assured, running a hand along Lyra’s cheek to brush the remnants away. “None of it is your doing, I promise.”

“Yes, it is,” Lyra protested, sitting up to face her as she gurgled a response. “She came because of me and then she upset you.”

“Oh, Lyra,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her whimpering child. “It’s alright.”

“I-It’s not,” Lyra cried as she scrambled close, her fingers twisting in the back of her shirt as she clutched her. “She said all those lies about you.”

“What lies, my darling?” she softly inquired, tugging Lyra’s cheek away so she could see her.

The sight of her daughter’s splotchy, wet cheeks drew a burning desire to wipe all pain from her. It was that sort of internal struggle that had just had her doubting herself entirely.

“She said you weren’t fit to be my mother and she took me from you. That’s why you don’t want me anymore, isn’t it?”

“Lyra,” she murmured, a heavy sigh burning through her lungs as she brushed the dark hair from Lyra’s tear soaked cheeks. “It’s all so complicated.”

“No, it isn’t,” Lyra denied, eyes fierce in their certainty. “You said if it wasn’t for her, you would’ve kept me. I’ll hate her forever for stopping you. We could have been together all this time and you’d always want me.”

A foreboding feeling swept her at how serious Lyra’s promise appeared. It wasn’t so much a desire of hers to preserve a thread of a relationship between Lyra and her mother as it was a desire to not see Lyra consumed by the same spirit of loathing she, herself, possessed.

_But it would be so easy to mold it_, the dark recesses of her mind whispered to her.

But as she looked into the deep brown of Lyra’s hard eyes, she found herself unable to voice such poisonous thoughts for Lyra’s innocent mind to soak up.

“She loves you,” she whispered, the words like ash in her mouth. “And she took care of you. That’s all that matters.” Lyra shook her head as if to further protest, but she quickly added, “And I love you just as you are. So, she did something right.”

All the air seemed to leave Lyra in a rush as she fell back and frowned, making the scar on her forehead stand out all the more.

Running her finger over the mark, she went on, “I know it’s confusing, but I don’t want you to worry about it because I’m never going to leave you or send you away.”

“I can’t help it,” Lyra murmured. “She made me so mad.”

“That’s ok, we all get mad sometimes.”

“Why isn’t she afraid of you? I thought everyone was afraid of you.”

Unable to help a small smile, she teasingly asked, “Are you afraid of me?”

At her daughter’s small shrug, she felt a small pang of distress creep up her spine.

“Lyra, you needn’t ever be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid. I just... everyone always does what you say and...” Lyra glanced to the end of the bed where Oz was perched, watching them intently. “He’s kinda scary. Pan’s afraid of him sometimes.”

Pan jerked his head up to glare at Lyra, who deftly avoided his gaze.

“Right,” she sighed, refusing to meet her own daemon’s gaze and instead concentrated on the wrinkles in the blankets between she and Lyra.

“And I have all these questions like... Why doesn’t he talk? And how does he go so far from you? And why do you hurt him-“

“Lyra,” she began, drawing a finger full of hair over Lyra’s ear. “Darling, it’s-“

“Complicated?” Lyra finished with a frown. “I’m not a baby. I know things.”

“I know you do,” she quickly replied, feeling more drained than ever before.

This was exactly what she’d been hoping to avoid before Lyra ran away. This very conversation.

“It’s not natural for him to do that. Doesn’t it hurt? It hurts so much when Pan is even a little bit away from me. And when he hurts, I hurt. Mama, why would you hurt him if it hurts you?”

Allowing her head to fall back, she brought a hand to run over her eyes and sighed.

“Did your mother hurt you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, eyes on the ceiling. “She hurt me.”

“And that made you stop loving Oz?”

“Partly.”

“Why? He didn’t do anything.”

“Lyra, it’s been a long day,” she informed, eyes falling closed. “We’ve both been through a great deal and should rest.”

Silence greeted her for about a dozen heartbeats before Lyra whispered, “Father told me not to bother you, but I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

With another sigh, she faced her daughter again. Lyra, for her part, was now the one staring at the blankets, picking at them as she avoided eye contact.

“And you came to my room to see me?”

A few quick nods was her child’s only response.

Eyes heavy, she wrapped an arm around Lyra and pulled her close before placing a kiss to her forehead.

“You are my favorite little girl in the whole world,” she whispered, lingering against Lyra’s skin for a moment before pulling back to catch her dark eyes. “I know you have questions and I promise I will answer them one day, but I need you to know right now and always that I will never, ever, want to live in a world where I’m not your mother.”

When she felt Lyra relax and nod, she allowed herself to do the same, pushing her doubts away for the time being.

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

With a small smile, she shifted and laid down beside her daughter, drawing an arm over her. “I’ll stay as long as you like.”

“Goodnight, mama.”

“Goodnight.”

* * *

It didn’t take all that long for sleep to find Lyra, allowing her to slip from the bed with ease and make her way to her own room after looking in on Lynx, who was peacefully sleeping in his crib.

Soft light filtering under the bathroom door drew her feet toward it with the intent to shut off the light. However, upon pushing the door open, she found Asriel half asleep in the bathtub.

“Is this the new version of being sent to sleep on the sofa?”

A tired laugh fell from his lips as he remained in his relaxed position, head rested against the tub’s back and arms splayed out around the edges.

“I was too tired to stand in the shower.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, further entering the room, allowing her eyes to dance along his naked chest.

Stel laid sprawled out on the rug a few feet away and Oz was quick to find and join her.

“After I convinced my mother to go back to bed, I had Thorold bolt Lyra’s window shut while she was in the bath.”

Leaning against the sink, she crossed her arms and replied, “I don’t think she’ll run away again.”

“Will you?” he asked, finally lifting his head to meet her gaze, his face frustratingly neutral.

“Did you bolt our window, too?” she half heartedly teased.

Rather than meet her in the middle, he remained impassive and leaned his head back again. “All the bolts in the world wouldn’t contain you if you wanted to leave.”

Too exhausted to keep up the game, she lifted her hands to the belt of her robe and tugged it apart before pushing her robe from her shoulders to the floor. The rest of her underclothing quickly followed and soon she was steppinginto the warm water and settling with her back to his front.

“I don’t want to leave,” she admitted, taking it upon herself to draw his heavy arms around her.

His chest heaved with a deep sigh as he leaned forward to press his face into her neck after moving her hair to one side.

“We can’t keep doing this. Eventually, one of us is going to push too far.”

“I know,” she whispered, relaxing into him and allowing her eyes to fall shut. “But not tonight.”  
  


“How is she?” he murmured, dragging his lips along the column of her neck as his hands ran down her arms and up her belly.

”She thinks everything that happened today is her fault because she wanted to see my mother.”

”I know you want to spare her pain, Marisa. That’s how I know you’re a good mother more than anything else,” he softly said. “But Lyra’s already gone through a great deal of it. It’ll help her one day.”

  
  
“I can’t stand it,” she admitted, pressing her hands over his to hold them to her chest. “The thought of her hurting.”

A soft chuckle rocked them as he  murmured in her ear, “Our little monkey is going to be just fine. Within a breath, she hit you and spit on me. I don’t think we have to worry about anyone taking advantage of her.”

Unable to help her own laugh, she rolled her head to catch his eyes before lifting a finger to trace his lips. The way his eyes followed her stilled her laughter, the blue capturing and pulling her in as though to drowned her.

  
“Do you want me to stop using that name?” he asked softly, drawing teasing circles around her breasts with one hand as the other came up to cup her neck.

With a slight shake of her head as the air between them shifted into something more physical, she whispered, “No.”

”Good,” he murmured, brushing his lips along her jaw as his fingers did the same to her breasts, twirling about her nipples until they’d pebbled achingly stiff. “Because you’re _my_ monkey.” Breath picking up, she sighed when his other hand began trailing down her belly, digits pressing deeply against her flesh as they snaked their way into the folds of her sex. “You’re mine alone.”

No longer feeling any remnants of her earlier chill, she titled her head back to allow him access to the side of her neck.

”I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me,” he went on, the small waves around the place his arm had disappeared beneath the water rippling throughout the tub. “Either of you.”

A heavy ache rested in the pit of her belly where the heel of his palm rested and extended even further down into the place his fingers were rolling and drawing breathy, little sighs up her throat.

”Do you believe me?” he asked, teeth nipping at her jaw.

”Yes,” she gasped, clutching his forearm and thigh as his own need became a presence at her lower back.

  
“I don’t care if it’s your mother, my mother, Marcel...” His opposite hand drew her face toward him where he began brushing his lips over hers. “Anyone who tries to hurt our family.”

She’d happily drown in him, she thought, as he held her close, ready to catch the thousands of pieces into which she would soon shatter.  
  


“Tell me his name,” he spoke after a few dozen heartbeats.

”What?” she asked, the blood rushing past her ears drowning him out as she pulled back to catch his eyes.

”I know it, but you’ve never said it,” he went on, eyes still locked on her every movement as his hand never stopped the torturous pleasure between her thighs. “Not out loud.”

”I-“

”You stopped saying it when you were fourteen, didn’t you? That’s when it became his fault.”

Torn between wanting to leave him and to never move, she shook her head as the pressure became too much with his thumb swaying back and forth on her clit. “I can’t-“

”My love, you want your control back so reclaim it from those who took it,” he encouraged, holding her at the edge as her hips cantered toward the fingers buried inside her. “Say his name.”

As everything absolutely shattered within her, her daemon’s name flooded from her lips like a downpour on a starved desert floor.

“Oz.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept going just for you guys when I could have split this into two chapters. No cliffhangers today lol.
> 
> If it was a ton of rambling, I blame it on my inner demons making me write it in the early hours of the morning lol.


	18. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys in the comment section rock! Y’all put so much thought into your comments and they’re truly appreciated.

Sips light against the flute of champagne, she smiled over the glass at the Chairman of the Board of something or other who had been droning on about a bit of research she’d never heard of nor caredto ever hear of again. Even his daemon, a rather grotesque, moist bullfrog, looked bored out of her mind as she sat perched on his shoulder, thankfully leaving Oz in peace to wander around the various guests in their vicinity, picking up on tidbits of their conversations.

While the older gentleman took a breath before diving in again, she cast her gaze around the living room, being sure to nod every so often as though she were still listening to him.

The greens, reds, and golds complementing the spiced atmosphere of the room set a cozy mood for the guests currently occupying their home this evening. Christmas had always been her favorite holiday for the simple fact that people tended to be more positive and receptive during this time. In other words, easier to manipulate and goad into donations for whatever project she fancied as they drank themselves into a stupor amidst all the holiday spirit.

Across the room, her husband seemed to be thriving off of the same thing as he spoke to a few channels of influence; a scholar, duke, and even a little known princess, the latter of which seemed absolutely enthralled with whatever he was saying.

Like a magnet, her gaze slide over his form and she took the time to appreciate just how delectable her lover was in his double breasted, pinstriped suit and how magnificent his daemon’s silver coat looked next to the black material. He’d groaned about the formal attire, but relented under the heated promises of reward for his cooperation as she’d buttoned the white shirt which now rested beneath it.

_ “I’ll undress you just as I’ve dressed you,” she laughed, deftly slipping the buttons through their holes. “And, then, I’ll reward you for your effort in behavior this evening.” _

_ “Reward?” His hands settled at her waist as she reached the last button, his voice deepening as he leaned into her ear. “And just what sort of reward will I receive?” _

_ Grin spreading, she slipped her fingers around his collar to fold it correctly. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise, but, let’s just say, I’ll do all the work.” _

The Chairman’s voice was now a sort of faint buzz at the back of her mind as she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth and smirked at the thought of wrapping the black tie around her hand and dragging Asriel into a dark corner away from prying eyes to fulfill every dirty word she’d given to his ear.

A dull throbbing began to press upon her and she found herself taking a deep satisfaction from the furtive glances of the other women present. Asriel had always drawn the female eye and it had never failed to irk her, but now? Their jealousy was like the sweetest honey; the kind she could lap at all day long.

Like he could sense the charge sweeping through her in the suddenly too hot room, his brilliant blue eyes found her even as he continued to regal his companions with what she could only imagine were stories full of half truths and dramatic exposition. The glint in his orbs had her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass as her breathing began to quicken and the smooth, lacy material of her dress began to feel more sensual against her skin than it had moments earlier.

It wasn’t until she felt Oz moving toward Stel in yearning that she realized she’d embarrass herself should she linger in their connection too much longer and forced herself to tear her eyes from him, returning her attention to the little, portly shaped, irritant of a man still rambling at her side, completely oblivious to her diverted attention.

At his next pause for air, she smiled courteously and gestured to a passing tray of beverages.

“Mr. Atwood, please help yourself to another drink,” she offered, setting her empty one down. “I’ve so enjoyed speaking with you, but, if you don’t mind, I _must_ check on my daughter.”

The red faced man stuttered his gratitude at her attention, leaving her the leeway to move though the room. Oz had already spotted Lyra and Pan, having been tracking them regularly throughout the evening. They were now amidst a few scholars from St. Sophia’s College. With her long, dark hair pulled half back to show off her new, silver necklace embodying the Belacqua family crest Asriel had given her,she looked as confident as her father in whatever she was telling the women around her. Pan was equally as enchanting as he chattered with the other daemons in the sleekest form of an otter she’d ever seen.

“Oh, Marisa, your daughter is just the most delightful thing,” Velma Dodds, a former classmate from St. Sophia’s commented as she moved past her. “She’s quite the storyteller and so well spoken.”

Lyra, for her part, grinned from ear to ear at the compliment as she smoothed her hands down her dress, the one she’d insisted be the same shade of navy as her own. Clearly, Lyra was still eating up the attention she’d been receiving all day.

_ “Hold still.” _

_ Drawing the navy polish over Lyra’s ring finger, she smiled as Lyra crossed her legs in an attempt to stop fidgeting before dipping the brush in the jar Oz was dutifully holding. _

_ “We’re almost done,” she assured her, having already taken care of the toes and left hand. _

_ Lyra sighed and tugged Lynx with her free hand by the back of his shirt from getting too far from them on the bed where wolf Pan was sitting on watch. “He keeps rolling away.” _

_ “Wait til he begins to crawl,” she laughed, sparing her giggling son a glance. “You’ll really have to keep up with him.” _

_ “Ugh,” Lyra groaned as Lynx gnawed at the toy boat Lyra had chosen for him as a gift. “Slobber.” _

_ He’d began to attempt crawling a few days ago and she’d found herself constantly with him close, not wanting to miss the moment as she had with Lyra. As of right now, though, all he did was roll from one side of the room to the other or in circles while continually getting her hopes up.  _

_ Flora, for her part, usually just flew around the room in various forms, bumping into everything and occasionally breaking the various vases around whatever room they were in. _

_ Pan and Oz had joined forces in being throughly annoyed every time she lighted atop one of them. _

_ “There,” she proclaimed, handing Oz the brush and leaning forward to blow on Lyra’s nails before holding them out and flipping her own hands to show the matching colors. “All done.” _

_ Lyra went to her knees in excitement as she inspected them, turning them every which way. “How do you do it so well?” _

_ “Because she spends hours of her life practicing when she could be doing more practical things,” Asriel groaned from the door as he moped into the room and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. He then flopped back to lay beside Lynx, who gurgled excitedly when he rolled toward Asriel’s added dip in the bed. _

_ With a roll of her eyes, she teased, “He’s just upset he has to get dressed up.” _

_ “It’s because you’ve decided to put so many of my least favorite people in the same room and expect me to behave.” He turned on his side and picked up Lynx’s lost boat to return it to his reaching hands. “I’d rather spend the evening in the nursery with Lynx.” _

_ “Don’t be such a baby,” Lyra scolded. “It’s Christmas. You’re supposed to be jolly.” _

_ The glare Asriel threw her kept any further remarks from flying from their brown eyed child. _

_ Biting her lip, she reached over to brush the backs of her knuckles along his smooth cheek. “Maybe not jolly, but certainly less cave man like.” _

_ For days, she’d begged him to be rid of the scruffy beard. It seems he’d finally relented, even if he chose to groan and moan about it. _

_ “Alright, time to get dressed,” she said, standing up and reaching for Lynx before giving Asriel a scalding look. “You, too.” _

“Oh, I’m sure,” she mused, holding her hand out for Lyra to take and ignoring the ‘well spoken’ part of Velma’s compliment as if Lyra would be illiterate just because she hadn’t lived with her. “Come, darling, and help me.”

As she led Lyra toward the kitchen, she tapped a passing server and told him enough desserts weren’t circulating.

“Now,” she murmured, turning to Lyra, who was already showing signs of eagerness for her next mission as she began bouncing on her heels. “You’ve done brilliantly so far, but the next guest I need you to charm is the headmaster’s wife.”

Peering around the corner, she tugged Lyra forward and nodded toward the staircase. “There. In that awful choice of a yellow dress. With the mink dameon. Do you see her?”

Lyra crept around her side and giggled. “That’s Headmaster Archer’s wife? Are you sure that’s not his daughter?”

Biting back a grin, she leveled Lyra with a serious look. “Her name is Blanche and you’d do well to compliment her. You need something to change that wild reputation you have. Get on her good side and Archer will never dream of questioning your status again.”

Lyra rolled her eyes and added with distaste, “Do I have to compliment Sally’s parents, too?” 

“Absolutely not,” she swiftly replied, turning back to the room and finding the Manford’s chatting with the Archer’s, probably attempting to gain their own points. “Not unless you’ve suddenly perfected the art of a veiled compliment.”

Lyra groaned and stepped back into the room with Pan flitting between shapes in her wake, no doubt trying to find a unique form to impress. Lyra’d been practicing her compliments for days, mostly on poor Thorold and the other staff around the grounds. The one’s where she’d tried to hide an insult in a compliment had not gone over so well and so they’d decided to stick with the basics of just using innocent charm.

Left to follow at a distance, she watched as her daughter slipped through the guests until she was right behind Blanche. When the woman turned, she seemed hesitant for only enough time for Lyra to say whatever it is she said before a wide smile broke out on her face and she patted her husband’s arm. While the woman did so, Lyra gave her a quick glance, smile dripping of such sweetness that if she didn’t know better she’d think it would be genuine. 

A sweltering pride consumed her at how easily Lyra was moving amongst the guests, which was why she’d instructed Thorold to keep a keen eye on her for the duration of the evening to keep any undue attention from her daughter.

“Are you teaching her evil things, again?” Asriel’s voice was thick as his arms wrapped around her from behind and his mouth rested against her left ear. “You know she’s already too charismatic as it is.”

Unable to help her smile, she laid her hands over his and rested her head against his shoulder, leaning in to the way he nuzzled along her neck and cheek. “It comes so easy to her.”

“Because she’s ours, of course,” he breathed hotly into her ear, drawing a stutter to her breath as her earlier musings washed over her again. “I heard your dirty thoughts, monkey.”

“I couldn’t possibly know what you mean,” she murmured, fingers tightening around his as they pressed over her lower belly and attempted to venture further south.

“This.” To emphasize his point, he pulled her hips back into his where his eagerness showed. “If they could hear your thoughts, you’d fall from grace all over again.”

“You’re going to embarrass yourself with that,” she teased, stepping away before he could pull her further into his web.

Lyra wasn’t the only charming Belacqua in the room. If not held to standard, he’d have her charmed right out of her dress if she wasn’t careful.

“Embarrass?” he growled, catching her hand and pulling her close again, this time with his hands creeping down her back to rest dangerously close to yet other intimate levels. “With all the solicitous gossip they circulated about us after Edward ate a bullet, you’d think they’d clamor to congratulate me for my strength at not taking you right here in the middle of them all.”

Lips curling into a smirk, she slid a hand around his neck, ghosting her fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, and held him still so she could lean up to his ear. “Is that what has you so worked up? Thinking about having me right here?” She discretely nipped at his lobe. “Well, what’s stopping you?”

A heady growl crawled up his chest as he dug his fingers into her back and pulled her flush to him, his mouth hot at her exposed neck. “I love touching you in front of them. The prudes could do with a lesson in how to properly fuck.”

When his teeth began nipping at her collarbone, she sighed and leaned away, cupping his face to softly kiss him as she did. “They all know I’m yours,” she murmured against his mouth as he chased her lips. “I’ve always been yours.”

“Be mine now, then,” he groaned, letting her feel how deep his need ran. “You can’t expect me to wait all night with you looking like this. They already think we rut like animals. Why not prove a rumor true for once?”

As he spoke, the fingers of his right hand crept up the front of her dress to tease the hem of the plunging neckline before he twisted the sapphire hanging between her breasts so he could get away with brushing the backs of his knuckles against her flesh.

“It’s sinful to be this intoxicating,” he mused, lips trailing down the left side of her neck. “You evil temptress.”

A laugh built up her throat in an attempt to cover the heated desire swelling along her cheeks.

“We’re in a room full of professional gossips, my love,” she whispered, fingers biting into his waist.

“What will they say that they haven’t already? _‘Lord Asriel fucked his wife in their own home?’_” He sucked at her pulse. “Or, perhaps, _‘Lady Belacqua caught by unsuspecting guests drinking more than champagne from her husband’s glass this evening?’_ His grin could be felt against her skin. “I think they’ll understand my predicament. All I want is the promise of your mouth on my-“

“Lord Asriel,” a man interrupted, only for Asriel to growl and Stel to bare her teeth at the man, who began backing away with hands help up.

“Asriel,” she lightly scolded, though with next to no sting as he began briskly walking toward the kitchen with her in tow, ignoring the man as well as the side glances of the staff.

Shortly after, the pantry found them, hands and mouths in a frenzy as buttons were popped and zippers were lowered. Then, his wishes were being met as she sank to her knees and instructed him not to muss her perfectly coiffed hair lest this be the last time she ever drank anything from him. Ten minutes later saw them emerging with him not so discretely tucking himself back within his pants and her reapplying her lipstick.

“Did I tell you I loved you?” he murmured, trailing light kisses along the nape of her neck as she held the compact mirror to check for obvious signs of their pantry shenanigans.

She smirked and spun to face him, snapping the compact shut when she felt satisfied with her appearance. “A few dozen times just now.”

His crystal eyes practically twinkled as he pressed his still heated forehead to hers. “I think I saw a few stars when you-“

Thorold cleared his throat behind them, prompting yet another growl from Asriel when he turned to the man, who was thankfullypretending he didn’t know exactly what they’d just done. It’s not as though it’d be the first time he’d found them compromised.

“You wanted me to let you know when Lord Boreal arrived, ma’am.”

Of course, this only furthered Asriel’s aggravation with the entire evening.

Before he could begin to form a retort, she adorned her smile again and lifted her hand to smooth through his slickened hair to sort it back into place. “Play nice.”

“With that snake?” he snapped, a hand finding her waist, possession permeating his every muscle. “Never.”

“I had to invite him,” she explained, using her hands to soothe the tenseness in his neck and shoulders. “He works with me on things I don’t want others to know about. He’s discrete.”

Asriel’s jaw shifted and she knew he was grinding his teeth, suddenly avoidant of her gaze as he focused on a point over her shoulder. If she wasn’t still so caught up in the lingering sensations he’d just invoked in her, she’d be annoyed at his archaic thinking.

“You’re just jealous we slept together,” she quipped, feeling slightly more brazen.

His eyes blazed back to hers, fingers biting through her dress. “Jealous? You think I’m jealous of that snake?”

“Asriel,” she sighed, running the pads of her thumbs back and forth along his jaw.

“Yes, it pisses me off,” he growled, “But I don’t trust him with you, Marisa. His daemon’s a fucking _snake.”_

If she could go back and never have sex with Boreal, she would, but it was done. She was just glad she never rubbed it in too hard how much she’d enjoyed it. Because, yes, his daemon is a snake and Boreal knew just how to make a woman coil for him. It’s what made him so insufferable now.

“You don’t have to trust _him.”_ She cupped his cheeks and forced him to meet her eyes. “Just trust _me.”_

Still holding onto his resistance, he opened his mouth for rebuttal only to have her snatch the words right from him, swallowing them in much the same manner she’d done to a much more accommodating part of him moments earlier.

And like butter, he melted right into her, hands splaying along her back rather than gripping at her waist and muscles softening as she coaxed the sounds from his throat to roll off his tongue onto hers.

“Manipulative temptress,” he murmured, shifting to deepen their kiss.

It wasn’t until her back hit the counter that she broke the connection and pressed a hand to his chest. “Save something for later.”

Force of will overpowering her own, his mouth took hers again as he panted, “There’s plenty to spare.”

Barely able to get a word out with his persistent assault, she managed between breaths, “Our guests.”

“Fuck them.”

Somehow managing to free a hand enough to twist the skin at his neck enough to make him flinch away, she laughed as she sidestepped his insistent reaching for her. “I believe I already have.”

“Marisa-“ he growled, quickly chasing her only to come up short when she made it through the door before he could, quickly composing herself and brandishing her collected persona for the first person she saw.

“Lady Belacqua, I must say, you’ve outdone yourself with remodeling the manor.” Mrs. Carrington, widow to the former master of Jordan remarked from her seat beside the door, floral perfume wafting up strong enough to make her eyes water. “I can still remember coming here as a young girl when Lord Asriel’s great grandmother hosted parties here.”

The woman was squinting around the room through some spectacles she held in her hand with her raven chattering in her ear.

Always ready to take a compliment, she couldn’t help but also feel this one was just perfunctory.

Before she could form a reply, however, Madeline’s voice intruded, the woman having gone unnoticed in her quick departure from the kitchen. “Well, as we all know, Marisa certainly has tastes for the finer things. She snatched up my son after all.”

A cursory smile appeared on her face, thin as it was, to acknowledge Madeline’s comment. Unlike Lyra, Madeline had mastered the lesson in veiled compliments.

“Oh, Madeline,” the woman exclaimed, reaching out to touch her mother-in-law’s arm, clearly not needing vision help to know the always enchanting former Lady of the house. “I’d heard you’d returned. I’ve been meaning to have you over.”

“Yes, yes.” Madeline, looking every bit the part of the elegant hostess, laughed. “I’ve taken up residence not far from here in the most adorable, little cottage.”

“Mother,” Asriel greeted breathlessly, leaning forward to kiss her cheek when he materialized through the door. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

Madeline found her laughter again, eyes practically glowing with pride. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss Lyra’s first Christmas party here for the world.” 

“You must be thrilled to be close to your grandchildren,” Mrs. Carrington mused.

“Oh, of course,” Madeline exclaimed, eyes casting to hers with a measure of pointedness. “I don’t want to miss another minute with them.”

“Hmm,” she sighed, maintaining her face. “Well, Lyra adores having her grandmother near.” She leaned in close to Mrs. Carrington with a wink as her hand slipped around Asriel’s waist. “It’s also nice for Asriel and I to have time alone.”

The woman’s face reddened even deeper than the already too thick blush on her cheeks as she murmured quietly to herself about young people and propriety, leaving her to nod to Madeline, who’s smile had dimmed momentarily.  


  
Just as Asriel cleared his throat and plucked a flute of champagne from a tray leaving the kitchen, she found her amusement increasing when she reached up to swipe her thumb over the lipstick lingering at the corner of his mouth, knowing his mother had seen it.

To be fair, things had gotten better between she and Madeline, but it never failed to be enticing to have the opportunity to battle wills with the woman. She’d never want it assumed that she actually respected her mother-in-law too much.

_ “I don’t want any,” she snapped, glaring at Oz, whom Asriel had made her swear to make progress with while he was away for the week. _

_ Oz wilted and set the glass of water to the side of the desk, tail curling around himself as he sat back on his haunches. _

_ Eyes returning to her papers, she attempted to concentrate, but found herself completely distracted by Asriel’s voice at the back of her mind, reminding her to be kinder, more forgiving. It had been easy to make those promises when he’d had her at his mercy, heartsick over his departure. Now, though, with Lyra at school and Lynx down for a nap, she was stuck with the silence she’d once treasured and found herself despising it. _

_ A glance to her left found her daemon still simpering, his round face a picture of discontent. No words needed be said to know he was aching to be returned to the comforts of Stelmaria. At least, upon that, they could agree because she found she missed Asriel to a ridiculous degree. _

_ “It’ll be over soon,” she murmured, the quiet seclusion forcing her to acknowledge him more than usual. _

_ Oz’s dark eyes lifted, hope on his face as he tentatively slid the glass of water closer to her. The last thing she needed was him ratting her out to Stel for continued neglect. _

_ With a roll of her eyes, she took the glass and sipped at it, praying it would ease her headache. _

_ However, their silence was penetrated by a sudden knock at the door. _

_ “Come in, Thorold.” _

_ Picking up her pen, she signed the document she’d been looking over, expenses she didn’t want to think about, and set it with the others. _

_ “I hope this is a good time.” _

_ The soft voice brought her eyes up quickly to find Madeline and her daemon just inside the doorway, her mother-in-law looking ready for business with her dark hair pulled up and purse in hand. _

_ Not wishing to add to her headache, she tilted her head and began to lie, “Actually, it’s-“ _

_ “I won’t be but a moment,” Madeline assured, already taking a seat across from her rather than waiting for a response. “I just wanted to let you know you’ll be rid of me shortly.” _

_ Perplexed, she set her pen down and threaded her fingers together atop the desk, giving Madeline her full attention. “Rid of you?” _

_ The older woman sighed and set her purse to the side before fixing her with a searching gaze. For his part, Oz was being sniffed out by the wolf at the desk’s edge and slapped at the daemon to warn him off. _

_ “Marisa, it’s never been a secret that I don’t approve of you for my son-“ _

_ “Really?” she laughed, smile slight. “I’d have never guessed.” _

_ “Don’t be coy, Marisa,” Madeline quipped, folding her hands in her lap as her back straightened. “You can hardly blame me for being protective of my son after all you’ve put him through. I hardly think you’d approve of yourself if you were in my shoes and Lynx in Asriel’s.” _

_ After counting to five, she forced her jaw to relax and her smile to thin. _

_ “But I’m not here to mince words with you. I-“ Discomfort passed along Madeline’s features as she shifted in her seat. “I believe you when you say you love him.” _

_ “You... believe me?” she echoed, eyes narrowing in search of the game being played. _

_ “Difficult as it is to admit,” Madeline chuckled. “Yes.” _

_ “And this... sudden change in heart,” she went on, flames flickering at the edges of her thoughts. “I don’t suppose it has anything to do with what happened a few days ago with my mother?” _

_ Madeline took a moment, her own eyes as piercing as Asriel’s could be. “Asriel was adamant that I leave you be while he was gone.” She laughed again. “I believe he’s afraid I’ll have you run off before he can get back to you.” _

_ “Has that not been your intention since arriving?” _

_ “What sort of novice do you take me for?” Madeline scoffed. “If you left him, he’d fall to pieces again. No, my intention was to have Asriel see you for what I thought you were- a fraud incapable of empathy.” _

_ The flames were stoked. “Thought?” She shook her head and snapped, “I don’t want your pity. My mother-“ _

_ “Is a woman very different from you,” Madeline interjected, furthering her frustration. “And you can throw up all the defenses you like at the fact that I saw your little display, that I saw the puzzle begin to unfold, or you can accept like I have that we are bound for life by Asriel.” _

_ Oz growled at the wolf who was speaking so lowly she couldn’t hear. _

_ “Marisa, I love my son and I love those children.” Madeline sighed and picked her purse back up. “And it’s very clear that you do as well. And Asriel...” Madeline gave a far off smile. “Well, I never thought he’d actually be a husband and father in the sense that he is. I thought he’d be a philanderer at best who cast his children off on others to care for. Now, we can continue to bicker amongst ourselves, or we can make life easier for the people we love and learn to co-exist to the best of our abilities.” _

_Oz cast her a wary look as he shuffled closer to her while keeping an eye on the wolf. “I’m not sure that’s possible.” _

_ “Well, it’ll be much more possible with my relinquishing this home to the new Lady of the house.” Madeline stood and smiled. “I’ve just come back from purchasing a little cottage up the road. You’re rid of me at last.” _

_ “Hmm,” she murmured, unsure what to say regarding these new revelations. _

_ Business and other people’s emotions were easy enough to navigate. Rooting out the weaknesses of others and exploiting them were all part of her favorite game, but when it was hers...? It was a rare thing that she was left at the mercy of another and even rarer when that mercy was not being utilized as a weapon against her. _

_ “But I’ll still be close to stay in contact with the children. They’re my only family after all.” _

_ Taking a moment to let the flames simmer, she gave a terse nod. “Of course.” _

_ “Well,” Madeline said cheerfully, turning for the door. “I did promise to be brief.” _

_ As the woman moved toward the door, she found her gaze on her papers again as she tried to determine exactly what had just happened. It was all so unexpected. _

_ “You’re human, Marisa. You should forgive yourself.” _

_ The matter of fact tone her mother-in-law used drew her gaze up in surprise to find her lingering in the doorway. _

_ “We all make mistakes and cause pain.” Madeline tossed a hand up. “Just look at you and Asriel. The two of you carried on without a care and got a man killed, you both abandoned your child, and you spent ten years shutting yourselves off and becoming the most loathsome people around.” _

_ Well, so much for getting along. _

_ “But beauty often comes from pain.”  _

_ “Beauty?” she once again found herself echoing. _

_ “Had your parents not hurt you, you may not have married Edward as an escape. Had you not married Edward, you may never have met Asriel. Had you not carried on the way you did, you may have remained in that lifeless marriage and never had Lyra. Had you not given up your child, you may never have appreciated her.” Madeline paused. “All that pain, Marisa; all the things that have happened to you. I truly believe everything has a purpose and it’s all led you to this, to being with a man who adores you and children who admire you. Do you not find that beautiful? That life can give you the most beautiful things when their roots were the worst?” _

_ A bit taken aback, she felt her mouth opening and closing with no sound proceeding forth. _

_ “It’s not an excuse for the horrible things you’ve done, but it does help, does it not? To know there is purpose?” Madeline smiled again. “So, forgive yourself. There’s no sense in allowing any more time to be wasted on useless self-loathing.” _

_ Without waiting for an answer, Madeline closed the door behind her. _

* * *

Having left Asriel in the company of his mother, she slipped away to find Boreal. For weeks now, she’d not been able to get in touch with him and the last she’d seen of him, she’d instructed him to find out more on the woman Asriel had been seeing in secret.

Propped up in the corner of the room, he held a glass of champagne and smirked when he saw her approaching.

“Miss me?”

Managing to keep her scoff to herself, she asked, “Where have you been?”

“Around,” he replied, eyes casting over the room.

“And my inquiry?” she asked, already eager to be finished with him.

“Melinda Trout, wife of Minister Trout.”

Surprise coursed through her. “And?”

Minister Trout was as pious as they came. He pushed some of the most archaic forms of legislation she’d ever seen. For his wife, no matter the reason, to even be on the same street as Asriel would be out of bounds.

“Mrs. Trout seems to be involved under the table with a group of people,” he added with a pointed nod. “Who have sights on the Magisterium becoming a thing of lesser influence.”

At the gesture, her eyes turned toward Asriel to find his gaze fixed on them as he stood with Lyra and a few stray scholars, the loathing in his expression and stature practically tangible.

“There seems to be an underground movement-“

“As there always has been,” she interjected with a tilt of her head back to Boreal. “Any successful organization is always going to have its protestors.”

“It’s my job to report these things to more than just you,” he reminded, sipping his drink. “MacPhail is itching for any reason to arrest Asriel.”

Nails biting into her palms, she smiled tightly. “I’m aware.”

“You’ve no control over that man, Marisa. Just admit it. He’ll have you as nothing more than another housewife before the end of it.”

Oz snarled as he circled her legs and sat at her feet, claws scratching at her ankles.

“What proof do you actually have against him?”

“Not enough to take forward yet.” He pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “But with Asriel, it’s only a matter of time.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, mulling the new information over in her mind, adjusting what she’d thought with what she now knew.

Asriel, of course, was always with his hands in some forbidden pot or another when it came to his research, but to be involved in a group with sights on the Magisterium as a whole. That was something that couldn’t be allowed.

* * *

As the night dwindled and the guests left over became more inebriated, Oz had began to pester her ankles with the reminder that Lyra needed to go to bed. When she finally found her, she paused to take in the duo of father and daughter amidst a tale of enormously false proportions.

“And we had to eat the dogs lest we starve to death,” Lyra told, her face a mask of horror.

Pan did his part by shifting into a puppy as if to emphasize how awful the predicament was, which earned a few gasps.

“Luckily, Iorek, that’s the king of the bears,” Asriel clarified, gesturing what she could only imagine was his umpteenth glass of the evening judging from his discarded jacket and rolled up sleeves. “Provided us with shelter and provisions enough to return to civilization.”

Their small audience, mostly of the female sex, seemed enraptured with the seated pair and their tale of adventure.

“I hate to interrupt this daring recounting,” she said, easing between the group while holding out her hand to Lyra. “But I’m afraid Lyra must bid you all farewell.”

At Lyra’s groan, she lifted a brow, prompting the girl to pop up from her seat and kiss Asriel’s cheek, which earned her extra coos from her audience.

“Goodnight, Lyra,” came farewells from all around as she led her up the staircase.

“But you’re not going to bed,” Lyra quipped, even as a yawn left her.

“I’m not nine years old, either.” She smiled. “And I have to make sure your father behaves. Besides, you’ve had a very long day.”

_ “Lyra?” _

_ The sun creeping in through the windows cast rays of golden light over the bed making Lyra frown as she blinked and tried to focus her heavy lidded, brown eyes._

_ With a soft smile, she curled a finger around a few dark strands of hair and looped them over her daughter’s ear.  _ _ “Merry Christmas.” _

_ At those words, energy suddenly flooded Lyra like a bolt of lightning. _

_ “Christmas?” Lyra squealed, sitting up and throwing back her blankets in one sweep, nearly bumping heads with her in her excitement. “Finally!” _

_ “Slow down,” she laughed, standing up to give her child some room to bounce around. “Your father is downstairs with Lynx waiting on us.” _

_ “Lynx is awake?” _

_ Reaching to the bedpost, she gathered Lyra’s robe and held it open for her. “Yes, but not quite so eager as you.” _

_ “His loss,” Lyra giggled, grabbing her hand and skipping toward the door with her in tow. “Let’s go!” _

“You and your father seemed to be the highlight of the evening,” she remarked, back to Lyra as she waited on the edge of the bed while Lyra changed into her pajamas.

Lyra’s giggle as she dove into the bed brought her head around with a smile.

“I had fun telling stories with him.”

“You mean tales of falsity?”

Lyra giggled again as ermine Pan settled on her pillow close to her head. Oz began dutifully putting Lyra’s dress and shoes away as she pulled the blankets over her.

“What was your favorite part of Christmas?”

Another yawn punctuated Lyra’s response. “Lynx opening presents was funny. I think he liked the paper more than the gifts.”

“I think so, too,” she laughed, patting Lyra’s blankets around her.

“And I liked having parents this year.”

Heart seizing at the innocence of that statement, she remarked softly, “I think that was my favorite part, too. You and Lynx are the best gifts I’ve ever received.”  


“Did I do a good job?” Lyra asked, eyes heavy, but fighting to stay on hers. “Are you proud of me?”

“Oh, Lyra,” she murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to Lyra’s temple before cupping her cheek. “You are the most extraordinary Belacqua by far and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“Ok.” As Lyra snuggled into her pillow, already half asleep, she whispered, “Love you, mama.”

Unable to help herself, she waited a few more minutes, gently brushing Lyra’s hair, lulling her to sleep.

When she was satisfied Lyra wouldn’t wake up, she kissed her cheek and pulled the covers up to her shoulders before moving to the door and turning out the lights.

By the time she’d looked in on Lynx and returned to the party, she found herself less inclined to continue playing hostess. Late nights weren’t something she found motherhood accompanied well. Children, she decided, arose far too early for her tastes, dragging their poor parents along with them.

Thankfully, the guests had dwindled even further to only a handful. After informing Thorold to start gently rounding them up, she placed herself at her husband’s side.

And thankfully, they were all too drunk to notice the way Asriel’s hands kept blatantly wandering in his own inebriated state.

As she listened to him rant through his latest wonderings, she found her mind doing a bit of wondering on its own. Stel and Oz were at their feet, consumed more with each other than the other daemons attempting to make nice with them, but when her thoughts began to turn, she felt Oz’s eyes shift to her.

Fear began to grip her as she sorted through the accusations Boreal had made against Asriel. If he was truly involved in a secret organization intent upon the Magisterium’s downfall, there would be little she could do to prevent the consequences of the fallout should he be discovered.

And losing Asriel was not something she was prepared to face. It simply had to be prevented at all costs.

When the last couple finally stumbled out the front door, she sighed in relief and turned on her heel toward the living room. There, she found Asriel, tie and belt gone, reclined on the sofa, fingers gently stroking Stel’s fur.

“You know, I was looking forward to undressing you tonight, but it seems you’ve been steadily discarding your clothing all evening.”

A chuckle parted his lips as he lifted his head to look her over. “I believe I’m very nearly drunk.”

With a hum of agreement, she stepped between his legs and smiled down at him. 

“Do you know how deeply I adore you, Marisa?” he murmured, drawing her fingers to his mouth. “Your very breath is a treasure to me.”

“I know,” she admitted, threading their fingers and tugging him up. “Come to bed, love, and show me.”

A smirk accompanied his unsteady feet. “I do believe you’re obligated to do all the work, tonight.” His lips found her jawline. “For my wearing this clown suit.”

“Hmm.” She couldn’t help but lean into his affections, wrapping her arms around his waist as he swayed on his feet and threading her fingers together over his lower back. “So I am.”

“I endured those _awful,_ small minded leeches for you.”

His hands began their exploration again; over her hips, up her back, around her neck, and down her breastbone. 

“Their lust for you was palpable.”

When his fingers slipped past the deep neckline of her dress to cup her breast and expose the flesh to the room, she grinned into his neck, inhaling the spice of his cologne and that coppery scent beneath it that seemed to cling to his skin from hours tinkering with his machines.

Then, his scent was removed as his mouth found purchase below her neck, prompting her to slip her fingers through his slicked back hair.

_ So much for us doing all the work _ , Oz seemed to say as she met his eyes over the sofa where Stel was steadily grooming his fur.

“My monkey,” he murmured, lips and teeth teasing her breast and pulling back for a moment to stare before angling another way as though he were seeking a way to unlock it.

“Is this part of my doing all the work?” she wondered, amused by his antics.

Twin seas of blue sought her out as he slowly released her nipple from his teeth, replacing it with a toothy grin as he stood to his full height.

He was on the verge of drunk, but he’d still managed to settle a healthy throb between her thighs.

“My lust for you is palpable, too,” he muttered, struggling to get the buttons of his shirt loose.

They needed to move. The staff needed to clean this room and she was sure Thorold was beyond the dining room entrance cursing them for lingering.

Settling her fingers over his, she pried them away before grabbing him by the front of the shirt and jerking him toward her as she began backing toward the staircase.

“And just what do you lust for?” she asked, bypassing the staircase and taking a trajectory toward her study, which Oz was already unlocking behind her.

“Your flesh,” he growled.

Greedy as a thief, he lapped at her neck and shoulders, fingers kneading her waist and drawing the lowest of moans up her throat when he pressed between her thighs with the palm of his hand.

Shoving him down onto the chaise lounge beneath the bay window, she stood over his panting form, taking in all the naked desire pouring off him.

Certainly accustomed to desire and lust, she began pushing her dress from her shoulders, one sleeve at a time. Unlike others, there’d always been something in Asriel’s bold, unapologetic gaze, something less vulgar and more appreciative when he looked at her.

She’d always felt truly extraordinary in regards to his lust, like a sort of power linked them; like she was a queen he only prayed would gaze upon him.

Even now, as his eyes followed the path of her dress, absorbing each new inch of exposed skin, he looked upon her as though for the first time, like she was the first woman his boyish eyes had ever beheld. There was awe that should have been dampened long ago.

Edward had certainly tired of her by this point in their marriage, pious and faithful as ever, but much less interested in her sex than his politics.

Now, with Asriel laid back against the arch of the chaise watching her let her hair fall, shirt half undone, pants strained, and panting as though her fingers were already wrapped about him, she felt her smile slip away as the desire to simply devour him, to hold him inside and never let him escape consumed her.

Then, she was on him, fingers locked in his slick hair, straddling his waist and swallowing her name on his lips like they were the sweetest honey she’d ever tasted.

And taste him she did as the eagerness to feel his heated skin on hers took over and she ripped at the remaining buttons along his shirt, tearing it from his shoulders and slapping his hands away when he tried to reach for her, too consumed with the taste of his neck to let him distract her as she unbuckled his pants and shoved them down his thighs, practically growling when he didn’t lift his hips fast enough.

“Fuck, M’risa,” he groaned at her first touch, quick and firm, arching into her like an arrow seeking its quiver.

Fingers gripping the arch of the emerald velvet over his shoulder, she sank down on him, drinking his sharp exhales as she consumed him, demanding her eyes remain unblinking for fear she’d miss any flicker of pleasure passing over his features.

Pace unrelenting, she rested her other hand to his chest and snapped her hips to the rhythm of her own making,determined to keep him at the edge for as long as possible.

The blue of his eyes were like twinkling stars in the dim lighting as he rapidly blinked every time she wholly encompassed him.

Thumbs hooked over her hips and fingers digging into her ass hard enough to bruise, he grunted and moaned some broken form of her name into her ear like a man being beaten, the little quick puffs of hot air driving her over the edge as she shuddered above him, nails breaking through a weak point in the emerald fabric and slipping through to the chaise’s bare frame.

A blush warmed her from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes so thoroughly to the point that she thought she’d combust before it was past.

Then, one of his hands cupped her face, steadying her so he could consume her further in a kiss so probing even her tastebuds felt like they were spasming for him. Every inch of her felt so full of him and so saturated with his presence to the point that when she finally relaxed, she realized she wasn’t only breaking through the fabric of the lounge, but also the skin along the back of his neck as the trickle of blood that had poured over her fingers had smeared along his cheek, too, when she drew her hand away.

“Asr-“

“Don’t stop,” he grunted, urging her hips on as he caught her fingers in his teeth and sucked them clean, tongue rolling between her digits like water between rocks in a stream.

It was enough to have her chasing the taste, the bitter tang of his blood erupting along her tastebuds as she stole it back from him.

When she felt his inevitable break in the tremble of his thighs, she arched just so to give him that final push, letting him finally reach the brink beneath her.

His end came hard, seed pouring into her hot and steady, like all the life he had was being drained from him and fed to her.

Then, after a time to gather himself had passed, came his sigh of triumph to accompany his long stretching out over the chaise. The man’s complete shamelessness prompted her to grin into his cheek as she slowed her hips to more shallow movements as he withered inside her.

“Was my work to your satisfaction, my lord?” she murmured, inching the tip of her tongue out to taste the stray trickle of sweat from his brow.

A deep chuckle rocked them as he began sliding his hands up her back and kicked his shoes off to finally rid himself of his suit pants.

“It wasn’t the work of a lady, that’s for sure.”

Amused with him, she pushed herself up to her elbows and grinned down at him, enjoying the heat clinging to his cheeks and chest. “I suppose it was the work of an evil temptress.”

“That you are,” he murmured, large hands cupping both sides of her face as he leaned up to kiss her. “Expecting me to control myself with you looking as you did. I’d lost the game before I even knew I was in one.”

“By my count, you’ve attained plenty of victories, today,” she reminded, scratching at the blood drying along his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“It matches,” he murmured, still holding her face. “All this Christmas nonsense.”

A grin nearly split her cheeks. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy every moment of today. You’re not as averse to it all as you like to pretend.”

A predatory growl crawled up his chest as he shifted her to stretch out beside him.

“Oh, you think you’ve turned me into some simpering fool,” he quipped, hand returning to her face to brush her hair back.

“Tell me your favorite part of today,” she replied, ignoring his antics. Then, she added quickly, “And do not say the sex.”

His opened mouth closed again and he rolled his eyes at her clearly stealing the words from his mouth.

“Be serious,” she murmured, rubbing her hand along his chest.

He sighed heavily and pressed the backs of his knuckles against his eyes and she could see the literal strain it was taking for him to focus. “I...uhm... I don’t-“

“My favorite part was us sitting together on the floor drinking choclatl with Lyra and Lynx after they’d opened their presents.” She smiled as she took his hand and kissed the pads of his fingers. His sea of blue danced all over her face as she went on, “I felt... really whole in a way I never have before. I-“ 

An ache settled in her bones riddled with fear over what Boreal had eluded to.

“I’ve always valued knowledge and _acknowledgment_ for how brilliant I am over everything else. I’ve always wanted to be seen for more than my sex and I wanted to change the world.” She shrugged. “But I wouldn’t trade our family for all the recognition in the world. The Magisterium can have whatever they like, Asriel, but they can’t have us. We can’t ever let them take this from us.”

“They won’t,” he murmured, pulling her closer. “I won’t let anyone take this from us, my love.”

Breath stuttering as her vision began to blur, she pressed her forehead to his.

“My favorite part was Lyra,” he whispered,drawing her eyes back to his. “When she took out the necklace and realized what it was; that she had a name no one would ever take from her; a name she could be proud of.” He gave a chuckle and shook his head. “And also the blatant lies she and I told to those gullible idiots.”

Smile returned, she wrapped her arm over his waist and said, “She’s very quick with her wit.”

“Too quick,” he sighed. “And charming and manipulative and beautiful. I don’t know what we’re going to do with her when her daemon settles.”

“Well, we have a few years to figure it out,” she assured with a laugh.

He nodded, eyes falling closed as his body relaxed. ”She’ll be the one to change the world, Marisa. I feel it in my bones.”

Eyes wide and on his peaceful face, she waited for him to elaborate, but realized he wouldn’t when his breathing began to slow.

“We should go to bed,” she suggested, rubbing a foot up his calf, knowing he was moments from falling asleep.

“A little longer,” he murmured, not moving an inch.

With a sigh, she smiled as she realized she may as well get comfortable because she wasn’t about to sleep without him. Once Asriel was still, there was no moving him. In hindsight, she should have just taken him up the stairs in the first place, but she let her eagerness get the better of her and brought him to the smallest chaise lounge in the world as both their feet were hanging off the end.

Reading her mind before her next thought even came, Oz left Stel’s embrace and fetched a throw from the back of a chair across the room and brought it to her.

“Thank you,” she muttered, spreading it over them.

A jolt of what she could only describe as joy passed between she and her daemon as he practically leapt back into Stel’s fur.

Before she could ponder his reaction further, Asriel shifted and kissed her forehead while mumbling almost incoherently with sleep, “Merry Christmas, monkey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was literally no where in the cards until about three days ago. But as I was writing the one that will follow this, I realized I don’t give the chaos family enough happy time. So, there we go. Hopefully, I didn’t drown them in too much emotion lol.
> 
> The next chapter will be back to more drama. The real question is, will it be Asriel’s for a change? Or more Marisa?


	19. Rockers and Gobblers

“Stop,” she giggled, tilting away as he chased the remnants of the choclatl at the corner of her mouth. “You’re entirely too much.”

Finger tapping the mug in her grasp, he licked his lips and gave a light chuckle as he settled back on the bench. “And that is going to rot your teeth.”

“I believe you’ve previously told me I was rotten to the core.” She retained her devilish smile. “What’s another tooth?”

He rolled his eyes and adjusted his book over his propped knee. “There’s simply never any winning with you.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, drawing her legs underneath herself as she relaxed into his side. “You’d best be careful lest I infect you with my wickedness.”

“I believe that particular ship sailed some time ago.”

A shiver swept through her as she snuggled closer to his warmth to ward off the cool breeze of the wintry evening. She couldn’t wait until it warmed up again.

Whether on instinct or because he noticed, he draped an arm over her shoulders, but kept his eyes on his book. The last beams of light on his face made him look softer than usual, gentler. It was nice; content. It brought a smile to her lips as she breathed in the clean, crisp air, delighting in him as she so often found herself doing.

The man had completely destroyed her resolve and reduced her to a lovesick fool. At least, that’s the reality check Oz had thrown her way the last time she’d given in to something Asriel had wanted.

Lifting her mug, she took another sip of her drink, gaze flickering over the garden before settling on Oz, who was absently stroking Stel’s silver head at their feet. At her attention, his dark eyes shifted to her. There was a fading ache there now, not whole, but mending. Asriel seemed to be of the mind that the more agency she allowed Oz, the more she was mending internally. She wasn’t entirely sure she agreed. He could be such a loathsome, little creature. Of course, that was exactly what Asriel said of her as well when she’d mentioned it.

“I should check on Lynx,” she sighed, not really wanting to move, but feeling pressed to do so as she glanced up at the nursery window. “It’s nearly time for Ms. Taylor to leave.”

“Not yet.” His fingers wove through hers. “I like your company.”

“You’re reading,” she laughed. “You’d barely notice I was gone.”

Finally lifting his gaze to her, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured, “That’s completely false. Your presence could never be missed.”

With another laugh, she burrowed her face into his neck and relented. “Five more minutes.”

A grunt was his only response and she knew it meant he’d only reserve his battle for then. As he returned to his book, she closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to her son.

Lynx was growing like a weed, crawling all over the place and finding joy in all the little discoveries he made from his viewpoint on the floor. He was the happiest baby she was sure existed and always content to just be close to her. Early mornings often found them cuddled in the library by the fire Thorold had stoked for them, reading some odd book or another as she had her morning coffee. She’d determined to set the time aside for them before Lyra and Asriel awoke and dominated the rest. During that first hour of waking, she tried to set aside worry of the day to come and all she needed to accomplish so she could simply be his mother.

It was also during that precious time with him that she often became heartsick as she never failed to think about all the ways she’d missed this with Lyra. Her first smile, her first crawl, her first laugh were all things she could never forgive herself for missing. It didn’t matter that she was attempting to make up for it now because time spent capturing the new moments could never recover the lost ones.

Though, to be sure, she didn’t have to be present to know Lyra had been an entirely different sort of child than Lynx. Even that brief glimpse of her as a toddler at Jordan College had been enough to know her hands would have been full with her rambunctious daughter because Lyra was never content to just sit and be. She always had to be off doing something, whether it be causing mischief or climbing the walls.  
  


  
Numerous times, she’d come home from school in an uproar over being so suffocated by expectations. Then, there was the matter of attempting to coax her into the life she was born to live.

_ “You don’t understand,” Lyra groaned, slinging her satchel to the floor as she plopped into the chair across from her desk. “Those girls are infuriating.” _

_ Pan, ever attempting to calm Lyra, lighted on her chair, shifting from a moth to a cat. “You start it.” _

_ “Shut up, Pan.” Lyra flicked her wrist up to shove him away only to meet air as he shifted to a beautiful, young robin and flew from her reach. “You’d be better as a chicken.” _

_ Gaze flickering between them, she smiled encouragingly. “You’re going to have to find a way to fit in, or be content sticking out. It’s up to you, Lyra.” _

_ “I don’t want to fit in with them,” Lyra whined, slumping with a pout. “I hate all of them. Why can’t I just homeschool? You did.” _

_ “Because you need to develop relationships with other people your age besides that kitchen boy.” _

_ “He’s my best friend, my only friend,” Lyra defended. “I’d trade all those girls for Roger. He’s a good person and honest.” _

_ “He’s a boy, Lyra,” she reminded for what felt like the hundredth time, setting her pen down and leaning forward to better assess her daughter. “And he’s not like you.” _

_ “You mean he’s poor.” Lyra frowned at her, displeasure creeping into her features. “I don’t care about that. Money doesn’t make you any better or worse than anyone else. Father says when you focus on wealth and appearance, you underestimate over half the world.” _

_ Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, she snapped, “Your father doesn’t know everything, Lyra.” _

_ “Neither do you,” Lyra quipped, not an ounce of hesitation in her gaze. _

_ Jaw tightening, she narrowed her eyes, taking note that Pan had alighted on the back of the chair once more and shifted to a badger, eyes carefully watching Oz. _

_ “Watch your tone,” she warned, tilting her head. “Now, I’ve made arrangements for you to accompany the Dodd’s to lunch, tomorrow. They’re going to take you to the new museu-“ _

_ “Jane Dodd?” Lyra interjected, pulling herself up by the armrests, eyes wide and pleading. “Mama, please, no.” _

_ “Her mother contacted me and said she was impressed with you after the Christmas party. She informed me that Jane rather likes you as well and would like it if you became friends.” _

_ “Because she doesn’t have any friends!” _

_ Giving Lyra a pointed look, she echoed, “Neither do you.” _

_ Not to be had, Lyra quickly countered, “I have Roger.” _

_ “Roger is not appropriate, Lyra,” she once again reminded. “As a young lady, you need to make other connections with girls your own age. Jane will be an excellent fit. She’s from a very good family.”_

_ “But- but-“ Lyra gripped the armrests until her fingers turned white, eyes darting around the room as though an excuse would be written somewhere. “You don’t have any real friends.” _

_ Oz growled as he leapt to the edge of the desk and crept toward Lyra, prompting her to snap her fingers. The last thing she needed was his losing control. He halted, but kept a steady gaze on Pan, who’d relented only enough to be partially hidden by Lyra’s hair, now in the shape of a weasel. _

_ Appropriate, she thought to herself, knowing that was exactly what Lyra was trying to do by infuriating her. Weasel right out of the whole ordeal. _

_ “I have a reputation for getting what I want and power to see things done because I paid attention to what my mother taught me and I took the time to actually pick up a book,” she clarified with a haughty smile. “You are known as being a wild, irresponsible brat who lashes out and dunks girls in fountains.” _

_ Lyra rolled her eyes. _

_ “I’d say of the two of us, it’d be better for you to make friends than I.” _

_ “Everyone talks about father being a wild, irresponsible heretic who lashes out and he gets along just fine,” Lyra countered, tone giving way to her recovered confidence. “Why should I be different?” _

_ Eyes narrowing at the absolute stubbornness of the girl in front of her, sheadded, “Your father’s greatest attribute will always be the fact that he’s a man. He doesn’t have to have friends to succeed. Everything will always be twice as hard for you simply because of your sex, Lyra. You’d do well to remember that when deciding the importance of how to spend your time.” _

_ “That’s not fair.” All confidence and rebellion seeped from Lyra’s face as she fell back into her seat, resuming her slouching pout. _

_ “I don’t think I have to explain the unfairness of life to you,” she went on a little more softly. “But I will say that if you would just be even the slightest bit open to making friends, it would be easier.” _

_ Lyra shrugged and threw up her hands in defeat. “I just don’t like them. They’re so stupid.” _

_ “You don’t have to like them,” she assured. “If nothing else, look at it as practice. If you can convince them you belong and make them yearn to be your friend rather than the other way around, you’ll have won the game.” _

_ Seeming to mull it over, Lyra went quiet, allowing her to resume her work as the room stilled again. However, she could feel her daughter’s eyes on her as she sorted her thoughts._

_ Never lifting her gaze, she said, ”You could be completing your homework while you chew on your dilemma.” _

_ With yet another huff, she heard Lyra begin to rustle in her bag._

_ This was what they did nearly every day; she with her paperwork and research and Lyra with her homework. It was a nice routine as they often had the opportunity to discuss their respective days and more importantly she was always sure Lyra was on top of her homework. _

_ “Mama?” _

_ Lifting her gaze only enough to see her daughter, she asked, “Yes?” _

_ “What do stupid girls talk about with each other?” _

_ A light laugh slipped out as she set her pen down again and noted the hesitation in Lyra’s expression. “You’re a quick study, Lyra. I feel making a friend of Jane will have you well on your way to conquering all of St. Catherine’s in no time.” _

“I think we should take them somewhere for Lyra’s next break,” she commented. “Lyra’s never really had the opportunity to leave Oxford. At least, not to see anything interesting.”

“Perhaps.” His fingers danced along her arm as he flipped to the next page. “Though, I hardly think she should be rewarded for those things she calls grades.”

A groan built at the back of her throat. Talk of Lyra’s grades would lead to an argument she didn’t feel like entertaining. After having returned from her three weeks spent at The Station last month, she hadn’t been sure if he was still holding a grudge against her for leaving. However, little remarks like this were enough to make her think he was. Apparently, her being absent so often was the reason their daughter was a pitiful student.

“Do you disagree that her grades her atrocious?”

“Of course not,” she murmured, rolling her fingers along the edge of her mug. “She’s not unintelligent, Asriel. She just can’t sit in a classroom and listen very well.”

“Then, bring her home and hire a tutor. She hates it there, anyway.”

“That’s exactly what she wants,” she argued. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s failing on purpose for that very reason.”

“Sounds like something you’d do,” he mocked. “You’re the one content to teach her to manipulate, Marisa. You shouldn’t be shocked she’s using it against you.”

Rolling her eyes, she took another sip of her drink, sucking the sweetness off her lips and teeth as she did.

“Her grades have improved a bit since she and Jane have began to form a friendship. I think having someone she knows outdoing her has stirred a fire in her belly.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Stelmaria suddenly jumped to her feet, hair standing on end, golden eyes sweeping the hill toward the river. Asriel followed her to his feet so swiftly, she barely had time to react.

“What’s wrong?” she asked just as the scream penetrated their solitude.

“Father!”

Startled by the tone of Lyra’s voice, she, too, found her feet and searched for sign of her daughter, the mug forgotten as it shattered against the cement.

“There,” Stel informed, setting off toward the east side of the patio with Asriel close at her heels.

Lyra appeared through the trees, stumbling as she ran up the hill, with Pan overhead as a hummingbird, yelling at her to hurry. A panicked expression permeated Lyra’s features as she pushed herself up and yelled out again.

“Father, you have to help him.”

Asriel was paces ahead of her as he met Lyra halfway, catching her as she practically fell into his arms. By the time she’d reached them, Asriel had tugged Lyra back by the shoulders, his hands swiftly patting along her arms and legs.

“Are you hurt? What happened to your leg?”

A rip in her pants revealed a huge gash on her shin which was gushing blood through the mud and grass sticking to her clothes and skin.

“Roger,” Lyra panted, gasping for breath as sweat and tears poured down her cheeks. “They’ve got him.”

Lyra’s quick little gasps seemed to beat nearly as quickly as Pan’s wings.

“Who, Lyra?” she asked, worriedly falling to her knees beside them and cupping Lyra’s mud stained cheek as Asriel tore off a piece of his shirt to press to Lyra’s leg.

“The Gobblers,” she cried, pointing toward the trees where the river ran. “They tried to take us both, but I got away.” Lyra shook her head and started pulling at Asriel’s arm as cat Pan dropped to nudge Stel. “Please, you have to get him.”

It felt as though all the blood had drained from her face, leaving her exposed and bereft of thought. “What?”

Asriel cast her an agitated look as he rose to his feet and began in the direction Lyra had indicated, Stel already ahead of him, sniffing the air. “Stay with your mother.”

“I want to come with you.”

Catching Lyra’s arm before she could slip away, she tugged her back to her as Oz caught Pan’s feline form and tugged him up into his arms. “Darling, your father will take care of it.”

“But-“

Brushing Lyra’s sticky hair away from her cheeks, she shushed her with a shake of her head and began wiping the mud from her face. “Let’s get you inside and you can tell me what happened.”

The whole time she was half carrying a limping Lyra inside, she felt her grip tightening around Lyra’s hand as her blood pounded throughout her head.

The Oblation Board wasn’t meant to be anywhere near their home. She’d given them free reign of the river north of them, but they weren’t supposed to come this far south. Even then, two children at once wasn’t part of any plan she’d ever suggested, either. One child at a time had been what she’d ordered and few and far between as far as the areas taken was concerned so as to not draw attention to too many children disappearing. On top of that, there was a clear line drawn over what type of child to take; vagrants, orphans, children no one would look for; children who’s purpose it would be to actually give to society rather than take from it for the rest of their lives.

“Mama, you’re hurting me,” Lyra whimpered, tugging at her hand.

At Lyra’s plea, she realized she’d left nail prints along Lyra’s palm from her grip.

“Come here,” she said, softening her touch and pulling Lyra into the kitchen before directing her to sit on the bench.

“Give me something to clean this with,” she barked at the staff, who began scattering in every direction.

Lyra sucked in a staggering breath as she began checking her over for other injuries, quickly ridding her of her heavy coat and smoothing her hands along her arms. When she was satisfied all was fine, she pulled off her own coat and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse.

“Darling, tell me how this happened,” she murmured, pulling away the piece of Asriel’s shirt to assess the damage.

“We-“ Lyra choked on a sob, her fingers gripping the lip of the bench. “We were down by the-the boats-“

Eyes jerking up, she fixed Lyra with a stern glare. “I told you to stay close to the house, today. You weren’t supposed to be with Roger at all.”

Lyra’s chin trembled as she wilted even further, prompting a sigh from her as she accepted the bandages and antiseptic from the cook who then made himself scarce.

“Did they do this to you?”

Pan was heavily panting within Oz’s arms like a trapped animal, shifting forms so quick Oz could barely keep hold of him, causing her some measure of alarm. Thecut wasn’t as bad as she’d previously thought, more scrape than anything else. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to strangle the life out of whoever had done this.

“We were playing kids and Gobblers with the Gyptian kids. Roger and I were the Gobblers, but then... A man with a fox daemon grabbed me and I was trying to get him off when Roger ran into him and pushed him off. Then, before we could run, he had Roger in a net and another one was coming for me.” Lyra shuddered, tears streaming down her cheeks as the words came out gurgled and a little difficult to understand. “I had to run or they’d have gotten us both.”

“It’s alright,” she murmured, wiping the mud and excess blood away as her own blood began to boil beneath the surface.

Gobblers. The fact that the term was spreading so close to home that even her own child knew what it was unnerved her in a way she’d not previously felt. She’d been so purposeful in her discretion, but it seemed others weren’t as concerned with such a thing.

“Lyra, you should have listened,” she scolded lightly, feeling sick at the thought that she could have been taken, too. “I told you to stay home, today.”

“But I haven’t seen Roger in weeks,” Lyra protested quietly, wincing as she rubbed at the wound with the cloth.

”It doesn’t matter,” she snapped, feeling her anger teetering on the edge of explosive. “You shouldn’t have disobeyed me!”

When Oz bristled, it drew her gaze up to find Asriel in the doorway watching them.

“Father,” Lyra called, sitting straight. “Did you find him? Did you bring him back?”

Stel was the one who spoke as she came through the door and, with a paw around his trembling form, drew Pan closer to her and away from Oz. “Not yet, Lyra.”

Asriel lingered in the doorway long enough to draw her attention from Lyra’s leg. There was an emotion she couldn’t quite place in his eyes. “Asriel?”

Her voice seemed to draw him out of whatever fog he was in because he strode forward and knelt beside her in front of Lyra before snatching the cloth she was using from her hands.

“Are the Gobblers going to eat Roger and Salcilia?” Lyra asked timidly. “That’s what the Gyptian kids said they’d do.”

Asriel shook his head and tended the wound. “No, your mother is going to take care of it and bring Roger home.” Without so much as glancing at her, he went on, “Aren’t you, Marisa?”

Taken aback by his sudden, icy behavior, she opened and closed her mouth before meeting Lyra’s hopeful gaze. He’d effectively shifted the responsibility for the boy onto her.

“I-“ she began, before composing herself and brushing Lyra’s sticky hair back from her forehead. “Well, we should get you taken care of first and then-“

“I can take care of her,” he interrupted as he placed the bandage over Lyra’s wound. “There you are. Good as new. Let me see you stretch it.”

Lyra held out her leg between them and bent the knee back and forth with a few winces, her chin shaking with the effort.

“I think you’ll be able to keep it,” Asriel mused with a half serious look.

“I’ll be fine, mama,” Lyra said, turning back to her with a strained smile. “You’re going to find Roger now, right?”

“She is,” Asriel answered for her, helping Lyra stand. “Let’s leave her to it and have a bath drawn for you.”

“But-“

Lyra’s reply was lost as she gave a whimper and Asriel bent to pick her up, arms under her back and legs as he carried her out the kitchen door.

Sagging against the table, she looked down at her bloody hands and felt a wash of panic well within her. Quickly moving to the sink, she flipped the faucet on and held her stained hands under the cold water.

“I didn’t-“ she began, feeling Oz’s eyes on her. “It won’t come off.”

He gave a grunt as he leapt to the counter and held a towel out for her.

Ignoring him, she continued to scrub at the blood smeared over her hands before noticing it had stained the cream color of her blouse. Then, before she could stop herself, she was retching into the sink.

“Isa-“

“Not now,” she snapped, eyes swiveling toward him in warning as she clutched the edge of the counter, dry heaves now rocking her from her head to her toes.

* * *

  
“Shh,” she murmured, coaxing Lynx into his sleep clothes while trying to appease his wishes to not be set down. “Everything’s alright.”

It was like he could sense the tension in her shoulders as he rarely fussed this way, his bright, blue eyes filled to the brim with tears.

Gently wiping them away, she forced ease into her voice as she talked to him and finished buttoning his clothes. His little face was red as he grasped at her fingers and began gurgling noises at her like she was supposed to understand what he was saying while his daemon shifted forms to show her discontent as well.

“You’re doing so good,” she cooed, smiling at him as she finished and picked him up to rest against her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles over his back. “There’s a good boy.”

In her arms, he quieted, but continued to squirm until she’d sat down in the rocking chair and began to rock with him, kissing his head and cheeks until he calmed enough to cradle in her arms.

Flora lighted on his chest and curled into him as a small, red fox, chirping something at him.

They seemed to calm each either down and continue to speak their own language, one neither she nor Oz, who’d hopped up to the arm of the rocker, could comprehend.

Brushing her fingers through his thickening, black hair, she smiled. He was so beautiful, a sweet reflection of her own face that would never be described as such. She found herself wondering if her own mother had ever held her and looked at her with anything akin to how she felt with her son in her arms. It was difficult to imagine her mother had.

“Mama?” Gaze lifting to the door, she found Lyra hovering hesitantly. “May I come in?”

“Of course, you can,” she quickly assured, holding out a hand which Lyra quickly crossed the room to take, still limping as she did. “Careful.”

Lyra nodded and leaned against the chair, fingers reaching out to brush over Lynx’s cheek. “He’s falling asleep.”

“How’s your leg?” she asked, focus on her daughter as she stroked a hand up and down her back. “Does it feel better?”

A tiny sigh slipped out as Lyra nodded. “Mostly sore, but I think it’ll be a cool scar.”

“Oh?” She shared none of Lyra’s enthusiasm about scars, eyes flickering up to the one on her forehead.

“It’s all my fault.” Lyra’s voice was so small she nearly missed her words.

“Lyra-“

“It was,” Lyra insisted, eyes filling up with tears again. “Since he moved to Jordan College, I’ve missed him so much. I told him to meet me at the abandoned boats and he didn’t want to because he knew I would get into trouble if you found out, but I convinced him to do it, anyway.”

Overcome with a feeling so foreign she barely knew the name, she shook her head and sighed.

Remorse. There were very few things she’d ever felt remorseful over, but they all somehow involved Lyra.

“Let’s put your brother to bed and then we’ll talk about it.”

Carefully standing up, she walked over and laid Lynx in his crib, being careful not to jostle and wake him. As she stepped back, Lyra did her part, pulling the blanket up while making sure not to cover Flora who was still curled on Lynx’s chest.

“Good. Now, come here,” she whispered, taking Lyra’s hand when she was finished and resuming her place in the rocker.

Lyra eyed her for a moment, a mixture of pitiful and doubtful. “I’m too big.”

With a firm shake of her head, she tugged Lyra forward. “No, you’re not.”

It was nearly a lie, but they managed with Lyra’s legs over her lap and head on her shoulder, while she wrapped her arms around her.

“I promise you,” she began, rocking her daughter as she held her close in a similar manner to how she’d just held her son. “I’m going to bring Roger back.”

“But what if you can’t find him,” Lyra murmured, fingers playing with the fall of her hair. “They were really big, scary men. They didn’t seem like anyone you’d know.”

“You have my word,” she assured. “Besides, everyone’s afraid of me, remember? They’ll be falling over themselves to bring him back when they hear I’m looking for him.”

Lyra nodded and she felt the tension leave her shoulders. Faith and trust. It was a delicate web she’d woven with the child in her arms. Somehow, she’d managed to create a bond despite their many years apart. How could she ever allow anything to break that?

“Are you angry with me?” Lyra asked, hiding her face in the place between her neck and shoulder, the little falter in her breathing evident in the stutter against her chest.

“No.” Rubbing her hands over Lyra’s back and arm, she tightened her hold around her daughter. “I just wish you wouldn’t sneak around like you do, Lyra. If you’d been taken, we wouldn’t have known.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she whispered, the panic she’d felt earlier edging at her nerves again. “But if you were gone, I wouldn’t have been able to stand it. You and your brother and your father... you’re my whole world. You know that, don’t you?”

A quick spurt of nods was Lyra’s reply as the small hand in her hair began brushing again, gently combing the fall of hair over her shoulder.

“No one’s ever rocked me before,” Lyra murmured. “It’s nice.”

Glad Lyra couldn’t see her face, she pressed her head back into the chair, eyes squeezing tight as the guilt crawled up her throat once again. Despite their continued growth as mother and daughter, it was little comments like these that tore at her heart. She’d apologize a thousand times if only she could fix it, go back and be what she was supposed to be for her daughter.

_ “What are you doing here?” Asriel asked, coming down the stairs with an amused grin, Stel hurrying ahead of him to greet the monkey at the foot of the stairs. “Shouldn’t you be in mourning?” _

_ Looking up at him under heavy eyes, tired from late nights of suppressing the urge to flee from her husband’s bed to him and their daughter, she kept an even expression to hide her dilemma. “I’m getting some fresh air to clear my mind.” _

_ The small cottage wasn’t one she’d been in before. It was quaint, quiet, much different from the glamor of the Belacqua manor or the apartment he had in the city. _

_ Nine weeks had passed since she’d last seen him and eight since Lyra had been born. With his hands cupping her neck, he kissed her like he was trying to make up for each day. _

_ “Where is she?” she finally murmured amidst his onslaught. _

_ “Upstairs.” His breath came heavy as he grinned again, thumbs toying with her ears. “She’s glorious, my love.” _

_ Heart already leading the way, she took his hand and began dragging him up the stairs. “For someone who didn’t care to play at motherhood, you’re certainly eager.” _

_ “I’m hardly eager so much as curious,” she quipped, pausing at the landing when she realized she didn’t know where she was going. _

_ Asriel chuckled as he pulled her through the second door on the left, the one overlooking the forest behind the house. Light blue walls gave a soft atmosphere as the afternoon light lit the room. At the middle of the room was an antique looking crib, white and gold lines flowing out from the center beams and down the legs. _

_ The soft sounds emanating from the crib brought her up short of it, suddenly nervous of what she’d feel when she looked at her daughter for the first time since the birth. She knew she couldn’t get attached, if that was even possible for her. There was no future where she’d actually get to play at motherhood as Asriel had joked and, even if she wanted to, she didn’t have the first clue what that would even entail. Her own mother certainly hadn’t set the tone for what a proper mother should do or be like._

_ “I shouldn’t have come,” she muttered, slipping her hand from his as she began to back from the room. “Edward will be looking for me and if I was followed-“ _

_ “Marisa, it’s fine.”  _

_ “No, it isn’t,” she snapped, eyes blazing to his blue ones to find him looking about as confused as she’d ever seen him. “You don’t understand, Asriel. You’ve never understood how dangerous this is.” _

_ Swift as his daemon could ever be, he had her in his arms again. “It’s alright to be afraid, but you needn’t be.” _

_ Jaw tight, she leaned away from him despite not being able to break free of his arms, not that she was trying too hard. “Stop pretending you understand what this is like for me, you fucking, privileged-“ _

_ A deep growl crawled up his chest as he all but lifted her off her feet and carried her over to the crib before setting her down and holding her from behind, arms wrapped around her front as he pressed his cheek to hers. _

_ “Asriel, stop,” she squealed, stomping at his feet only to be kneed in the back of her leg. _

_ “Look at her, Marisa,” he demanded at her ear, his hot breath familiar and pleasant, despite her pleas. “Look at what we made.” _

_ Eyes tightly squeezed shut, she shook her head and burst into unexpected tears. “I can’t be a mother.” _

_ “Of course, you can,” he whispered, laving her neck with light kisses. “You already are.” _

_ “But this is my fault.” Her nails dug deeply into his forearms as panic kept jabbing at her nerves. “I’ll hurt her.” _

_ “Marisa, my love.” He nuzzled at her cheek, his voice steady and hypnotic. “Please, just look at her.” _

_ Breaths stuttering, she sucked in a stream of noisy, graceless air as she tried to force herself to calm down. This wasn’t what she’d meant to do. She wasn’t even sure why she was devolving into a fit in the first place and she felt herself feeling completely humiliated to be doing it in front of him._

_ “Look at how beautiful she is. How healthy and safe.” He lifted a hand to turn her face to his, finally promoting her eyes to open. “Marisa, I’d tear this world to pieces before I’d let anyone hurt either of you. I promise, it’ll be fine.” _

_ The little coos drifted to her ears again, finally breaking over her hysterical fit, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a blue, baby bird hopping around at the edge of the crib’s bedding. _

_ Her daemon was quick to climb up the bannister and hover over the bars, his dark eyes leering into the crib. Through him, she could feel the presence of her daughter, the awe with which it leveled him. _

_ At Asriel’s gentle prodding, she finally allowed her gaze to fall, the sight of her daughter drawing a soft sigh from her lips. _

_ Lyra was twisting, arms over her lightly peppered dark hair, and seemed entranced with the bird who was hobbling about her head. _

_ The soft blue gown she wore seemed to make her brown eyes even darker as she would lose focus on the bird before finding him again and giving a gummy smile, some sort of gleeful noise escaping her as she reached for him._

_ “See?” he murmured, grip loosening and hands falling to knead along the sides of her breasts and waist. “She’s perfect.” _

_ Like she was spelled to do so, she reached out and tentatively ran her fingers along Lyra’s cheek, taking note of every little breath given to her tiny chest. _

_ At the touch, Lyra began squirming, kicking her blankets away as the noises she made gained volume until she was near to tears. _

_ “And spoiled already,” he chuckled, reaching down around her to lift the baby and pull her up to cradle against her chest. _

_ “Asriel-“ _

_ “It’s alright,” he whispered, arms holding both of them tight. _

_ Lyra’s cries stopped the moment she settled in their arms. _

_ “I’ve never held a baby,” she admitted, so lost in the trance Lyra had cast over her that her guard had slipped again._

_ “You held her when she was born, didn’t you?” _

_ “Yes, I just-“ She shook her head as Lyra clutched at the front of her dress, seemingly amused by the soft, purple material. “That was only for a moment and I wasn’t standing up.” _

_ “Well, here,” he said, loosening his grip and causing a mild panic to flare in her gut as he left her to hold Lyra on her own as he went to grab the rocking chair off to the side of the room and drag it forward. _

_ “Asriel-“ _

_ “Sit.” _

_ He took her arm and helped her ease into the chair, the movement giving her enough time to lose focus on Lyra and begin to feel a wash of embarrassment creep up her cheeks. She didn’t like being out of her element and needing his help to even sit was certainly well passed the line of what she deemed appropriate._

_ But then Lyra let out a little squeal as her small daemon lighted on her shoulder, shifting to the same form he’d entered the world in and began sniffing at her neck, causing her to go stone still at the fear that she was doing something wrong to attract the tiny daemon. _

_ “It’s fine,” Asriel assured, squatting beside them. “They’re just adjusting. They’re a curious pair. He probably remembers your smell.”_

_ “Been around many babies, have you?” she muttered, casting a small, teasing smile his way even as she let out a grateful breath when the daemon clumsily scurried down her dress toward Lyra. _

_ The tension seemed to break as he chuckled and lifted a hand to brush her hair over her ear. “Well, I might be partial to this one, but you can’t deny she’s bound to be brilliant coming from us, our own little explorer.” _

_ Eyes falling back to her daughter, she found her mood shifting from anxious to curious, herself, as they began slowly rocking together. Asriel’s features dominated her little face, leaving very little she could find of herself in which to relate. _

_ “She’s certainly yours,” she murmured, smiling when Lyra’s tiny fingers began tugging at the beads along her neckline. _

_ “Was there ever doubt?” _

_ Rolling her eyes, she chuckled when the little daemon sneezed on Lyra’s neck and Lyra jolted, startled by the noise and movement. This, of course, prompted her own daemon to leer over the edge of the rocker, his eyes questioning and full of yearning. The urge to slap him away from her baby arose in her, which he seemed to note as he jumped to Asriel’s shoulder, wrapping his golden arms around his neck and casting her a reproachful glare._

_ “It’s alright,” Asriel whispered, caressing the twisted creature so pitifully bound to her, though his eyes never left hers. _

_ “His name’s Pantalaimon,” Stel murmured, nuzzling at the monkey’s back.  _

_ “Pantalaimon,” Asriel repeated, rolling the name around his tongue. “It’s a mouthful. He picked it, didn’t he?” _

_ Stel growled and lifted a paw to take back her monkey. “We both did. It’s the name of a saint of compassion, something the both of you could work on giving.”_

_ The daemon’s scurried around behind the rocker, most likely to get away from their moody counterparts. _

_ “Would you want her to treat Pantalaimon the way you treat him?” he asked after a moment. _

_ Gaze fleeing his, she returned to Lyra, ignoring his play on her emotions, and brushed the pads of her fingers over Lyra’s soft ears. “How did we make something this soft? Pure?” She shook her head. “From all the lies and scheming we’ve done?” _

_ “I love you, Marisa,” he answered, hand stroking her cheek. “That’s what we made her from.” _

_ “Nether of us are soft or pure, Asriel,” she denied. “We’re both bound for hell as soon as our daemons turn to dust.” _

_ “If I’m going to hell for loving you, then fuck the Authority and all his so called mercies,” he growled, fingers laying firm to her neck. “I won’t apologize or beg forgiveness for it.” _

_ Lyra’s eyes began darting at Asriel’s tone and eventually locked with her own. In those little brown, innocent orbs, it was like she was being seared with the reality of all her sins. The sweet baby in her arms only existed because of the basest of sins; infidelity, envy, and fleshly immorality. If left to her care, Lyra would likely become tainted with those sins and perversions in which she had always been drowning, even from her earliest memories. _

_ “Take her,” she whispered, a sob unexpectedly working its way up her throat. _

_ “What?” Asriel asked in confusion._

_ “I can’t breathe,” she spluttered, clutching her throat as her daemon gave a pained howl, writhing on the floor beside Stel’s startled form. _

_ Asriel took Lyra just as she felt the bile climbing up her throat. _

_ “I have to go,” she muttered, hand to her mouth as she abruptly stood from the chair and began moving toward the door as briskly as she could, knowing all the while if Asriel caught hold of her, she’d never leave. _

_ “Marisa!” _

Steadily, she felt Lyra’s breathing slow until eventually her small grip loosened at her shoulder and she knew she was finally asleep, leaving her in the predicament of what to do as she couldn’t carry her, but didn’t want to wake her.

Oz began moving toward the door and she bit in a low, firm tone, “Don’t.”

“We need him,” his deep voice answered as he ignored her and disappeared through the door.

Sagging back into the rocker, she closed her eyes and felt her heart pick up pace, contrasting against Lyra’s steady thump against her chest.

The tension that had reared its ugly head and ruined their months of bliss would no doubt have built during his self-induced solitude. She’d not seen him again since he’d left her wrecked in the kitchen and she wasn’t sure she was ready to face his anger again just yet.

Soft footsteps paused in the doorway, drawing her eyes open to find him lingering there. Shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and goggles around his neck, she knew Oz had found him in the basement, probably intending to spend the entire night down there ignoring her as he often did when they were at odds.

“I didn’t want to wake her,” she offered to the quietness of the room, eyes steady on his.

A heavy sigh slipped through his nose as he wiped his hands down his slacks and continued toward them. His gentleness as he scooped Lyra into his arms was another contrast to the distaste still exuding from his eyes when they caught hers. It had her wilting like a flower over crackling logs.

Taking a few moments to gather herself, she wiped a hand through her hair and shook off his condemnation, assuring herself that everything would be fine once she brought Roger home.

When she made it to Lyra’s room, he was already tucking her into bed as Stel waited at the door.

“Don’t push him,” the leopard softly warned. “Go to bed and leave him be.”

Ignoring the daemon, she ventured further into the room and picked up a pair of Lyra’s boots to put away in case she awoke in the night and stumbled over them.

When she turned, she caught Asriel brushing Lyra’s hair back, studying her sleeping face as though it were one of the complicated calculations he was attempting to sort out in his lab. Staring at him while he was staring at their daughter made her feel all the more regret at the things she’d lost, that they’d all lost, because of selfishness.

The weight of it all had her heeding the leopard’s words after all and brushing past her, leaving the room and heading to her own. There’d be things to handle in the morning, letters to send and reprimands to be made. The boy would have to be located and returned at once while maintaining a certain level of caution over what he might repeat to anyone imploring about his abduction.

Slipping out of her clothes and into a robe, she took a seat at her vanity and began loosening her jewelry and hair, taking her time as the day’s events had drained her energy.

It was a few minutes until Asriel finally came in and closed their bedroom door before heading for the master bath, his heavy boots dragging about as slowly as she felt while Stel slinked behind him, the regal cat ignoring Oz’s fingers which grazed her fur as she moved past him.

Eventually, she heard the rush of the shower and sighed, staring at her reflection and wondering how long the tension would proceed.

“They think we did it,” Oz offered, black eyes on the closed door. “They think we took the boy.”

A crippling anxiety crept along her fringes as the words reverberated through her mind, tossing and turning like clothes in the wash; never settling but always spinning.

Sure, she’d done some things in her past that would turn a few heads, but for Asriel to think she’d actually take Lyra’s friend...

It wasn’t until the door opened again that she realized how long she’d been rooted to the spot, turmoil gripping her and holding her in place.

Asriel tossed her a frown before he continued into the room, his hair dripping from the tips as he held the towel around himself and started for his dresser.

The words burned as they climbed up her throat. “I didn’t do it.”

“You didn’t do it?” he repeated in a low tone, dropping the towel and tugging on some sleep pants. “Who did it then, Marisa, if not your _Gobblers?”_

“They’re not supposed to be anywhere near here.” She shrugged her shoulders and turned in her chair to face him. “All I did was have the boy sent to Jordan College to keep him and Lyra apart.”

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped, spinning on his heel and holding out his hands. “Are you really so jealous that Lyra made the choice to keep him as a friend in spite of you?”

“He’s just a kitchen boy, Asriel,” she replied, standing her ground. “He has no place in Lyra’s life and she won’t take no for an answer when it comes to him. It was what was best for her and for him.”

“That was what was best in your opinion?” Asriel asked, face filled with condemnation. “Marisa, this is low even for you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean? Even for me?” she spat, eyes narrowed as her will suddenly caught up with her. “I did what I thought was best for my child and I sent that boy somewhere he would be treated well.”

“Well, how considerate of you to care so deeply for the welfare of your own child and that meager kitchen boy while being content to rip apart other mothers’ children.”

Fury swept through her. That he would act like this was something new and not something she’d spent nearly a third of her life working toward. “This is my work, Asriel. I have spent years building to this and it is so close to being perfected.”

“Congratulations, then!” he shouted, hands thrown into the air between them. “That makes you a brilliant scientist and a pitiful mother. That you would do this to other mothers, that you would murder their children... because you want to... what was it again, Marisa? Preserve innocence? Keep them from pain?” He gave a manic laugh. “Such logic is truly about as delusional as a person can get.”

Her fury turned to ash as his disgust crept into his features enough that she found herself reeling from it. Oz leapt from the floor to the top of the vanity to keep from the prowling leopard.  


“This will make the world better, Asriel.”

“Then, take Lyra,” he growled, stalking toward her, gripping her arm, and hauling her up to start dragging her toward the door. “If it’s so good, take Lyra right now and put her in your little box. Rip her and Pantalaimon apart. Cut her conscience, her confidence, her curiosity right out of her.”

“Stop.” Shaking her head, she jerked free of his hold and nearly collapsed to the floor as his words pierced her. “You know that’s not what I want.”

He spun on her, eyes blazing so intensely she should have been burned alive at the barest flicker. “What do you think she’s going to say when she finds out what you’ve done?”

“That’ll _never_ happen.”

“Oh?” He held out his hand and began ticking off his fingers. “The Gobblers took him, isn’t that what she said? And you’re so close to perfecting your machine. When it’s published by the Magisterium and your name is attached as founder, I imagine you expect our daughter to remain oblivious.”

“I-“

“Wasn’t it you who just said she wasn’t unintelligent?” He shook his head and began to pace in front of her. “She’ll be disgusted with you, Marisa, and there won’t be anything you can do to make her forgive you. You’re setting yourself up to gain recognition at the price of your family.”

“That won’t happen.”

He spun back around, getting right in her face. “I have stayed silent on this topic because I know what it means to you and the twisted view you have of the world, but this can’t go on, Marisa. You can’t possibly think you can have the glory of the Magisterium as well as a daughter like Lyra, a girl who used to be an orphan like so many of these children who is full to the brim with a desire to be loved.” He held his hands out. “And surely you can’t think you and I will survive it, either.”

Breath coming short, she shook her head and reached out for him, taking his hand and bringing it to her chest. “Asriel, yo-you’re a man of science. You have to understand-“

“Do you know me, Marisa?” he asked, gently cupping her face as his eyes searched hers with a sort of mirrored desperation to the one she felt clawing its way out of her. “Do you really know me at all?”

“Of-“ She frowned and lifted her hand to rest over his heart. “Of course, I know you.”

“Why do I hate the Magisterium so much?”

“Because...” A foreboding feeling swept through her, stabbing at her heart and lungs. “It won’t be like that.”

“No?” He gave a pitiful smile. “They will use your machine exactly as you intend. They’ll use it to control the masses and should anyone like me, people they deem too dangerous to have free thinking, stand in their way... well, they’ll sever us and our children for good measure.” He shrugged. “I imagine it would be a sick pleasure, one likely already on their minds, to do just that to me while setting you in your place once and for all. Two birds with one stone.”

Fighting to keep her eyes from clouding over, she shook her head.

“And with that power, what becomes of girls like Lyra? Women like you? Do you really think those perverted men should be able to cut the fight out of you, Marisa? Have you been so focused on moving through the power ranks and the preservation of what you call innocence that you can’t even see how far something like this will set the world back?”

“That isn’t my intention.”

“I know you’ve twisted the idea of pain and love, but pain is part of what makes us who we are, my love. If we didn’t fight for what we love, experience pain and loss, we’d never appreciate what we have.” He ran his thumb under her eyes, wiping at the streaks of tears attempting to drown her as a sigh of disappointment slipped from his nose. “When you said you didn’t want the Magisterium to ruin our family, I thought you were getting better.”

“I am,” she quickly assured, hands sliding up his back and hooking behind his shoulders to keep him close. “Oz and I are doing better. You know that.”

“But do you see the importance of him, my love?” he softly implored. “Do you see the importance of your soul? Why it would be inconceivable to tear it away?”

“I-“ She tried to stop the tremble in her voice, but it wouldn’t abate. “Asriel, please, just-“

“We’re never going to make it, are we?” hewhispered, seemingly more to himself than her.

“Don’t say that. We’re happy. Our children are happy.”

“But this will keep happening. We’ll keep having this same fight until one of us gives in or leaves.” He took her face in his hands again. “I love you like my own soul, Marisa, but it won’t be me who gives in. You have to know that.” His jaw tightened. “And my children will never be subject to that machine, or any overt control from the Magisterium... or even you.”

Body stiffening, she pushed away from him, staring at him daringly. “What does that mean?”

Without blinking, he replied, “You know exactly what it means.”

When he turned this time, he didn’t stop, didn’t even look back, and as the door swung shut, she felt it had closed on more than just this conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and your kind comments. Sadly, we’re back to the drama, but that’s just what these two are best at... besides getting each other all hot and bothered lol.
> 
> FYI, as I must reread this story over and over to make sure I’m not contradicting myself, I often think, we’ll why didn’t I put that the first time?
> 
> So, Chapters 1-6 have been updated. Nothing was taken away, but some stuff was added or extended: a flashback or two, a smut scene or two, more dialogue, and possibly more Stel/Oz interaction as I often forget to include them when I’m so focused on their moody counterparts. Anywho, that’s as far as I’ve gotten as far as editing if anyone’s interested.


	20. Pretend Everything Doesn’t Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it’s been a minute since I updated. School started back up and then Hurricane Laura tried to wipe me off the map. So, in the heat and sweat of life with no air or electricity, I finally had time to write!
> 
> It’s not a very happy one, guys... be ready.
> 
> Also, I made a collage for this story cause obsession is a real thing.

The ding of the lift halting was followed quickly by the golden doors gliding open, allowing her a reprieve from being stuffed inside with her simpering, disappointment of a daemon.

“Well, if you hadn’t of been so off putting with his daemon, it would have went altogether better,” she fumed, having kept her rant to herself for the duration of the car ride back to her apartments for fear of being overheard. Beginning on the buttons along the front of her coat, she moved down the hallway. “Your attitude ruined all the groundwork I had painstakingly laid.”

Weeks of constant negotiations all up in flames because Oz couldn’t concentrate on the  one task she’d given him, trusted him with.

“I-“

“_Shut up_,” she snapped, pausing just inside the living room to whirl around on him. “I don’t want to hear another fucking word from you.”

His golden fur seemed to wilt as he reeled back from her fury which only infuriated her more. He’d become so passive and disengaged when before she’d always at least relied on him to be aggressive. Domesticated life was turning him weak and now with their lives upturned again, he was worse than ever.

Then, like a switch was flipped, he seemed to glow in the fading, evening light, jolting forward and passing her with little care.

“What are you-“ Spinning on her heel, she began to scream at him only to reel back herself.

There, standing straight backed in the light of the window, one hand deep in his pocket and the other wrapped around a glass, was Asriel.

“Still improving that relationship, I see.”

His tone was bored, disinterested, and borederline sleepy.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asked, finishing with her coat and ignoring the daemons’ embrace at Asriel’s feet where they were both betraying the inner feelings felt by their counterparts. “I thought you’d be gone until mid May?”

He shrugged, still holding his place as he gave her a sardonic smile. “Disappointed to see me?”

Casually laying her coat over the sofa’s back, she gave a thin smile in return and took up her own stance while leaving the coffee table between them, arms crossed and face neutral.

“Surprised is all,” she answered simply. “It was my understanding that your research would keep you longer.”

“Well, I just missed you so terribly.”

The air between them was charged with tension and it wasn’t the good kind; the kind that made her burn for him; the kind they’d always thrived under. With a crisp nod, she sighed, realizing she’d not get anything more than sarcasm from him, and took a seat on the sofa, crossing her legs and lounging back.

“Have you been home, yet?” she asked, picking at her nails in an attempt to seem disinterested.

“No.” Finally moving, he took a seat across from her on the adjacent sofa, keeping the distance which had been steadily growing between them. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days. “I landed this afternoon and intended to spend a few days here to sort out some things.”

To avoid returning home to her is how she felt that sentence should have ended, but made no comment to the fact.

“I was surprised you were here,” he added, leaning forward to rest his elbows to his knees as his eyes swept her. “You look like you’ve been groveling.”

“I’ve had meetings that have kept me here,” she offered, nearly breaking a nail at his snide comment. “I’m sure the children will be happy to see you.”

“Oh?” he grunted, swirling the amber liquid in the glass. “You haven’t turned them completely against me, yet?”

The sting rippled clear to her toes, but she only narrowed her eyes in return. “I’d never-“

“Don’t lie,” he interrupted as Stel lifted her head beside the sofa, letting out a low growl. “Past behavior is the best predictor of future behavior.” He chuckled lowly as he sipped from his glass. “Unless you’ve begged forgiveness for your many,  _ many _ sins and been thus granted it by your precious  _ church.”_

Oz leapt to the arm rest beside her and bore his teeth, prompting her to slap him at showing her fury, knocking him to the floor while her eyes never left Asriel’s, daring him to comment on her abject abuse.

“Did you come home early just to pick a fight with me?”

“Yes,” he murmured, face suddenly softening as he held out his hand for the whimpering daemon who quickly clamored to find solace in his lap. “You caught me. That’s exactly what I did.”

The brush of his fingers over Oz’s fur was distracting enough without the obvious emotion swirling in his crystal depths.

“I’m not a toy for you to play with and discard, Asriel.”

“Funny,” he whispered, cradling Oz to his breast. “That’s exactly how you treated me for the longest time. It’s fine for me to be broken and rejected, but when it comes your turn, I suppose the rules simply don’t apply to you, do they? Marisa Coulter has always been allowed to do whatever the fuck she wants.”

Nails digging into her palms, she breathed, “I swear to everything holy, if you don’t stop calling me that fucking name-“

“Then, be my wife,” he interjected, smoothing a hand down Oz’s back. “Be Marisa Belacqua.”

“I thought I was,” she replied, brow furrowed as she studied the stubborn man in front of her. “I’m not the one who ran off without a word.”

“I left a note.”

The simplicity in his answer infuriated her. She’d awoken to nothing but a note and cold sheets near to a month ago. It had been reserved, stale, and lacking any specifics, like he’d written it as an afterthought as he was dashing out the door, trying to get away from her as quickly as possible for as long as possible.

“A note,” she repeated, flames licking at her throat as she bit back the rage aching for release. “Of course, it was so minimal I nearly forgot its existence at all.”

His lips pulled back over his teeth like a wolf knowing it was close to victory.

Unwilling to be subjected to anymore of his scrutiny, she stood and headed toward her bedroom, caring little if Oz followed, and began peeling off the demure dress she’d adorned for the morally upright company she’d kept this afternoon, not that it had done her any good. Oz had ruined that as well.

All the while, she continued to repeat the lies she’d sworn she’d make truths durning his absence.

She didn’t need him. He’d made her weak and she was not weak. His absence didn’t matter. She didn’t care if he was gone a day or one hundred days. It made no difference to her. He’d not steal any more of her dignity.

_ The soft brush of his fingertips along her bare shoulder kept her eyes closed as she breathed in the scent of his skin, a heavy dose of her lavender soaps with traces of a metallic scent and a hint of burnt rubber. _

_ Then, there was the deep drum of his heart under her palm and the steady rise and fall of his chest, which she’d felt calm over the last ten minutes since he’d shifted. _

_ His outward anger had dissipated, but she knew him well enough to know it was still there, simmering beneath her. Perhaps, not tangibly, but certainly palpably. _

_ Now, here they lay, tangled together, both still brewing internally after their argument. She supposed she should be grateful he’d finally returned to their bed after avoiding her, trudging in after she’d already laid down, his claim of having a few thoughts to jot down a weak excuse to avoid joining her right away. _

_ Unable to fall asleep and tired of the silence, she nuzzled her face into the stubble along his neck and jawline, stealing a taste of his skin and drawing back with him on her tongue. _

_ A soft sigh shifted through his nose before his fingers paused their touches to press firmly between her shoulder blades as if to encourage her to inch closer to him. _

_ Which of course she did, dragging her foot along his calves as her thigh slipped up his hip while her hand eased down his belly, tracing the line of thickening hair that led her over his pubic bone to his cock. _

_ “I miss you,” she whispered into his skin, eyes falling closed again as she took him between her fingers, handling him gently. “I hate being away from you.” _

_ “We’ve been together all evening,” he murmured, voice thick with tiredness. _

_ “I feel like we’re further apart right now than we’ve been in months.” Her pulse screamed in her ears. “You’ve barely looked at me, much less talked to me.” _

_ “I don’t wish to speak of it anymore,” he whispered with finality. “It wouldn’t do any good.” _

_ The urge to cry again tickled at her throat, but she held it back, choosing to concentrate on easing the tense feeling in his shoulders, instead. Such a job wouldn’t be too difficult as he was already awake in her palm, steadily growing hot and heavy as her touches grew firmer. _

_ “What do you want, then?” she murmured at his ear, tongue tracing the shell before nipping at the stiff cartilage. “I’ll do anything you want.” _

_ Cock twitching in her grasp, he swallowed hard and began lightly cantering his hips to slide through her curled fingers. Then, his hand tangled in her hair, tightly weaving to press near her scalp where he clutched and jerked her mouth to his. _

_ A soft moan was smothered by his aggressive lips, tongue creeping through her teeth to fumble with her own. His free hand dropped over hers around his cock, directing her quicker strokes to slow, drawing them out into a longer, firmer pace. _

_ Pushing up on her elbow, she used her free hand to support his neck as she pressed fully into his side, breasts flat against his chest through her nightgown and thigh sliding back and forth over his, bumping into their hands every time it ascended. _

_ “I love you,” she murmured, the words nearly being swallowed by him as he tilted his neck, arching toward her kiss. “How hard you get for me.” _

_ To emphasize her point, she gave the stiffening flesh a long squeeze, twisting her hand beneath his own to show she knew him better than he knew himself. _

_ The reciprocal groan that rushed into her mouth was enough to spur her on, abusing the appendage in all the ways she knew he liked as his hand slithered to her ass to clutch her harder against his side, drawing her own heady moan out as she ground her center into his hip bone. _

_ “You can’t help it, can you?” she breathed against his mouth, trailing her lips and teeth along his jaw up to his ear. “Tell me what you want, Asriel.” She sank her teeth into the shell. “What do you want your dirty monkey to do to you?” _

_ Other hand on her neck, he growled, “Drink from me.” _

_ A sly smirk built at the corners of her mouth, her hand continuing to pump him as she began to slide down his body, lips and teeth appreciating every brush against his heated skin as she descended, tongue jutting out to taste the hard planes of his chest, absorbing the thick, salty taste of him. _

_ If sex was the only means for them to connect right now, she’d use it for all it was worth. She couldn’t stand another day like the one they’d just lived and fighting wasn’t the only thing at which they were best. _

_ When her teeth grazed his nipple, he hissed and jerked in her hand, prompting her to clamp the sensitive, protruding flesh firmly between them, breathing heavily through her nose as she then laved her tongue over the abused area. _

_ His hand smoothed up her back and over her shoulders before settling in her hair, fingers wrapping around her locks as he urged her downward. _

_ Not to be ordered about, she traced a nail up the ridge along the underside of his cock, daring him to do it again as she pressed it deep into the sensitive flesh before letting him go altogether as punishment. _

_ A grunt escaped him, drawing her eyes up to find him watching her through heavily lidded eyes as she nipped at his abdomen, leaving little impressions in her wake and enjoying every flinch under her care. _

_ While not pushing, his fingers began toying with her locks, gathering them up and brushing them out, nails scratching at her scalp and neck. It was a distraction, she knew, to prevent him from going insane with her being so close to his cock and still not taking it the way he desired. _

_ Rather than continuing on her downward trajectory, she veered to the right, taking her time gnawing at his hip bone and slurping at the dip along that ridge, enjoying the way his lower half arched off the bed, practically weeping for her. _

_ Oral sex wasn’t something she’d ever particularly enjoyed giving for pleasure’s sake. It had its uses, of course, as she’d learned from too young of an age where men had lusted and her father had given her a certain nod, alerting her to which ones she’d be debasing herself for that night. But with each man, she’d learned a little more of the power she held when her fingers and mouth were wrapped around their cocks, listening to them beg her, promise her the world if she’d just suck a little harder, stroke a little faster, swallow a little deeper.  _

_ How pitiful they’d been, reduced to trembling, incoherent fools willing to give their right hand and firstborn all for a few minutes of her attention. _

_ Even Edward, a true man of faith, had been at her mercy, granting her all sorts of privileges and gifts if only she’d fall to her knees a few times a week. _

_ But Asriel... her experienced, charismatic, beautiful, powerful lover... swallowing for him was an altogether different sort of power. She never felt debased or used. She wasn’t trading favors or gathering intel as she had with Boreal or the others. _

_ No, going to her knees for Asriel was one of the most erotic forms of pleasure she’d ever experienced. There was nothing to be gained from sucking him to climax other than to please her love. She liked the way his long fingers twisted in her hair, the way he breathed her name, reverently, like she was the greatest gift he’d ever been granted, the way every hard muscle curled for her, the way his pretty eye lashes fluttered when she applied just the right amount of pressure. _

_ Brushing her nose along the base of his cock, she breathed in the musky warmth soaked in her bath soaps before letting it out along the stiff flesh, permitting the barest touch of her lips to his shaft. His fingers tightened in her hair, drawing her eyes up again to find his muscles tight and his gaze fixed on her. _

_ Then, his fingers fell to her lips, pushing in and brushing her teeth. Lifting her hand, she caught his wrist and pulled the digits deeper, wrapping her tongue around and through them as she suckled at them like she was attempting to pull his nails right off the skin. _

_ When she finally let him pull away, she forced his wet hand to his cock, wrapping her fingers around his and pumping him a few times, letting her saliva spread over him. _

_ His eyes fluttered closed as he arched into the touch.  _

_ “Look at me,” she snapped, drawing his eyes back open. “You don’t have to talk to me, but you will look at me.” _

_ Shoving his hand away as though it had offended her, she curled her own fingers around his shaft again and kissed the head, sucking gently at the weeping tip, before easing her lips further down, the girth parting her lips the further she went. _

_ He was alive in her grasp, cock panting and pulsing and hot like it’d just ran from the Arctic to London, desperate for her body to sheath him within its natural home. _

_ The sheets began to pull beneath her and she took a glimpse to find his knuckles white as they clutched at the material, his eyes still trained on her. _

_ The power she’d once craved flickered in his eyes and she knew she had him in the palm of her hand, knew with this simple act she’d suddenly became the absolute center of his world again and he’d find no fault in her so long as she didn’t stop. _

_ Then, with another twist at his base, she tasted him at the back of her throat, hot and thick, threatening to drown her if she held too fast, which she did, eyes burning as she breathed through her nose, never parting from him. She’d never let him go; couldn’t. _

_ The flicker of power began to wane, however, as he relaxed into the sheets, hand falling from her hair as he sucked in a strained breath, drawing her eyes to find him wiping his other hand down his face as his chest pulsed with his completion. _

_ Hands sticky, she flexed her fingers out over his thighs, leaving a trail of moisture on his skin, before letting him slip from her mouth and sitting up on her knees to watch him come down from his high. _

_ Spread and bare before her, she wondered what he was thinking, if he was thinking at all as he smoothed his hands above his head and stretched. _

_ “Fuck,” he groaned, settling his legs to form a triangle with her at the center, though his eyes never found hers, resting instead on the dimly lit ceiling. Even with her nightgown, she suddenly felt exposed, like a wire missing its coverings or a raw nerve being tampered with and growing more sensitive with every passing second. She never thought she’d feel insecure in Asriel’s presence, but he was doing a fine job of making her feel less than herself; less than the person he claimed to love. _

_ Panic began to suffocate her the longer he refused to look at her. To her right, Oz was being ignored as well as Stel curled in front of the balcony doors, her back to the other daemon, who kept throwing glances her way as if to ask what to do next. They’d never been in this sort of position before._

_ “Do you think of me as Edward, now?” he queried to the quiet room, finally sitting up face to face with her. “That I’m some fool to be placated with an eager suck and half blind to your machinations.” _

_ “What?” Is that what he thought? Is that what she was doing? “No.” _

_ “You can’t manipulate me, Marisa,” he stated, hands cupping her face. “I know who you are, remember?” _

_ “Asriel,” she moaned, slipping her arms around his waist as she all but crawled into his lap, the tears she’d not realized were there spilling over and out. “My love, we’ve been so happy,” she whispered, caressing his flushed cheek. “Please, don’t let this ruin it. I made a mistake and I’m fixing it. I swear. I sent letters to return the boy and...” _

_ “It’s not about the boy,” he sighed, drawing a hand to rub his tired eyes. _

_ “Please, Asriel, I can’t breathe without you,” she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him over and over, desperation consuming the part of her that told her she was going too far, that it wasn’t her fault. “Please, make it stop hurting,” she pleaded between kisses. _

_ Hands covering hers, he gently pried them from his face and pulled back from her kiss. His eyes followed her fingers before he sighed and swiped a hand through her hair, combing out the tangles he’d made earlier. _

_ “Come here,” he muttered, tightening his hold at her waist and twisting around to deposit her amidst the pillows before leaning over her on his elbows. _

_ Settling her hands on his upper arms as she caught the breath that had been forced from her lungs in his suddenness, she stared up at him as he paused, his eyes darting over her face as though he were searching for something. _

_ “What hurts, my love?” _

_ The tears kept coming as she shook her head. “Everything. I’m try- I’m trying to be better, but it’s too much. Lyra needs me to- to make up for everything and Lynx needs me and you... you want me to throw away the only consistent thing I’ve ever had, a third of my life.”_

_ “If you don’t, you lose all the rest,” he whispered, brushing a hand through her hair. “I can’t _ _ make everything alright until you accept that, Marisa.” _

_ Tilting her head up, she kissed the upturned line of his throat as her legs slid around his ass to clutch him close, forcing him to settle between her thighs. “Please, just... just make love to me.”_

_ When he finally kissed her back, it was with a vigor that pulled a growl from him before he whispered, “No matter what happens next, I need you to always remember that I love you.” _

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”

Darting a glance over her shoulder, she spied him leaning in the door, hands deep in his pockets again, his eyes everywhere but on hers.

Down to her underwear, she ignored his remark and reached to pull out the low cut, black evening dress she’d chosen for the art show tonight before laying it out on the bed where Oz was waiting to straighten it to prevent wrinkles.

“Of course, you do,” he quipped, his voice carrying that mirth he had when he knew he was irritating her. “You’re more alluring than any witch.”

“I suppose that explains your ability to resist me,” she answered sarcastically.

“Going somewhere?”

Sparing him the barest of glances, she rolled her eyes at his quirked brow and sat at the vanity to begin on her hair.

“You’re not invited.”

“What will people think?” he asked teasingly, making his way to stand beside her where he leaned against the desk. “You out and about without your husband?”

“They’ll think whatever I want them to think.”

“Don’t be that way, love,” he murmured, fingers brushing her bare shoulder.

Grinding her teeth, she once again tried to ignore his call to a fight, but spun at his touch and shoved at his hip only to groan when he didn’t budge, leaving her to toss up a heated look at him. “Am I meant to follow your illogical thought patterns?”

“Yes,” he murmured, face suddenly softening again as he slipped her hair over her ear. Then, a small grin accompanied his fingers as he dropped them and began toying with her bra strap. “I enjoy fighting with you. It’s what we do best.”

At his sudden playfulness, she turned back to her mirror and sighed. “This hasn’t been a fight, Asriel. It’s been... it’s been nearly as painful to endure as those long years apart, except you’re here and I feel like I can’t touch you and I don’t even know if I want to touch you after you just...” She rested her head in her palms. “You just left me all alone without any explanation.”

“I know,” he whispered, slipping a hand along her neck to stroke her ear. “I couldn’t bear to endure being away from you any longer. I did miss you terribly. You must know that.”

“Yet nothing’s changed,” she said, voice too dejected for her liking. “Our beliefs are still at odds. You threatened to take my children from me.”

“I never said that,” he denied, frowning at her.

“It was heavily implied,” she returned, eyes set hard. “I’d kill you before I allowed that.”

He nodded, reaching out to caress her cheek. 

“Yes, you would try,” he agreed, fingers gentle against her skin. “But we can pretend none of that exists, tonight.”

“Asriel-“

“I love you more than I can...” He cupped her face with both hands and tilted it up to him, leaving her once again struck with how exhausted he looked. “Marisa, I would still burn the world for you.”

“I know, but the way you’ve been behaving-“

“Let us put it aside for now,” he stated, leaving little room in his tone for rebuttal. “I won’t be obstinate and you won’t be Magisterium. We’ll simply be two individuals who could be anyone else.”

She studied his earnestness for a long moment. It wouldn’t last. They were too equally passionate about what they wanted and he’d been right before when he’d said neither of them would concede defeat. The month since Roger Parslow’s disappearance had put a strain on their relationship for which she hadn’t found the means to mend, especially with him absent for most of it. How could she when he wanted to destroy the most crucial part of her life outside of their family? But if he wanted to pretend for at least one night... It had been so long, too long, since he’d touched her.

Licking her lips, she tilted forward to kiss him, soft and sweet, setting aside her desire to further pick at his brain in favor of taking what she could get.

Just what had she been reduced to? Accepting his meager scraps of affection?

“I suppose if you want to go with me-“

“I do,” he murmured into her cheek. “So very much.”

Unable to stop the smile that crept up at his eagerness, she tilted forward to kiss him again.

* * *

The setting of the garden was beautiful. Little, white lights littered the trees and soft music flowed through the grounds. The artist had truly outdone himself with his painstakingly detailed arrangement that she was sure most were overlooking, simply there for the drink and company. The most distracting thing for her was Asriel, about forty feet away, dressed to kill in his form fitting, completely black suit.

He was speaking lowly in a corner with someone she didn’t immediately recognize; a tall, sliver of a man of an age close to their own. They seemed to be debating some serious topic as Asriel’s brow was pinched in that deep way that spoke of his frustration as the man’s daemon, a black heron, glared down at Stelmaria.

However, before she could approach them and force an introduction, she was caught by a company of women well known for their gossip circle and proceeded to delve into their latest deductions while adding tidbits of her own. These circles of women held more power than people gave credit. They could sway the most powerful of men with a well placed lie or tidbit of truth and she knew better than most what their concentration could do to a reputation.

“Marisa, you must tell us about Lord Asriel,” one prodded, hand wrapped around her feline daemon. “He is so _handsome.”_

“Oh, yes,” another exclaimed, fanning her face as the chipmunk on her shoulder scurried to speak lowly with the feline. “If only my Zachariah was so delicious. I’d never allow us to leave the house.”

Yet another woman added, “Ladies, let her speak. We’ve not properly seen her since she ran off to live in Oxford with her beautiful family.”

Once all their eyes were focused on her, she said, “Well, Asriel’s family home was the place we decided would be best for our children.”

“And...?” the first woman prodded, the cat perking its ears, giving way to his desire for something juicier. “How is domesticated life? You’ve always said it wasn’t for you.”

Ah yes, the proverbial judgement of her life’s priorities. They were always on about that because of their roles as wife, mother, and social alcoholics while looking down on anyone who saw things differently. Juggling the positions as well as a career was unthinkable and they were practically salivating to hear as much.

“Well, Lyra is thriving at school and Lynx is the sweetest, most observant baby. They’re the apples of both mine and Asriel’s eye.” She then laughed lightly and added very pointedly, “And of course it’s quiet enough for both Asriel and I to work on our respective endeavors.”

“You’re still working?” the last of the three gawked. “With a baby at home?”

“Of course,” she quipped with a bright smile. “Asriel’s very involved with the children and we share the load to allow time for our individual work.”

The women seemed taken aback momentarily before the second of the three sighed dramatically. “I do envy you your husband greatly, Marisa.”

A good fifteen minutes passed with them falsely praising her before she detached from the threesome and began to search for her husband again, finally spotting him chatting up a group of various titles and ranks, preening like a peacock as they all held onto his every word. She always enjoyed watching him spin a tale, the way he made even the most absurd half truth seem so realistic. The man was nothing if not charming.

“Ah, there she is now,” Asriel exclaimed, extending a hand for her to take. “We were just talking about your unmatched ambition, my love.”

“Oh?”

The Scottish collector he was speaking with was known for his exotic tastes in hunting and even more so his tastes in women, furthered by the way his eyes slid over her as she settled next to Asriel.

Asriel’s calloused palm scratched at her smooth one, reminding her once again of how different he was to most other men here, tonight.

“Yes, Andrew was just speaking about his desire to go to the wilds of Africa and track an albino lion that was spotted along the mid-western border.”

Playing the part of surprise, she laughed and laid a hand to Asriel’s arm. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

As the man fell into a bout of explaining his discovery of taste in the rare beasts of the world, she took careful note of her husband’s behavior; the way his eyes tracked her oohs and aahs, lingering at her mouth and neck, the way his fingers threaded through hers and caressed her knuckles.

If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was absolutely enthralled with her.

“Marisa spent some time there as well,” Asriel bragged, shifting the conversation back to her. “She documented her time well and even published a book.”

Andrew’s eyes grew wide with excitement as he began to question her findings and experience while Asriel busied himself with finding the two of them a glass of champagne, garnering a reprieve from the long winded man.

When they’d managed a breather from the Scottish game hunter as well as some distance, she pulled him to a quiet corner of the garden and kissed him, surely giving way to how ridiculously needy she’d been with his absence.

“I remember the last time we were here,” he murmured, kissing her jawline before pulling back with a grin. “Do you?”

A moment of confusion swept her as she couldn’t recall Asriel having ever been to this particular venue with her.

“Edward was here as well, cozying up to a few, high ranking officials,” he reminded, hands dancing over the back of her dress, sweeping through her hair and resetting it as he liked. “You were bored-“

“And you showed up half drunk,” she finished with a roll of her eyes. “Nearly giving us away with your jealousy.”

“You do that to me, Marisa,” he defended lightly, stroking her neck. “You draw me in and steal every ounce of rationality and resolve I once prided myself on having.”

“Yet somehow I manage to control myself,” she teased.

“Maybe I love you more than you love me,” he whispered resignedly, eyes on his finger over her pulse, which she knew he felt quicken under his scrutiny.

“Maybe you do,” she replied, effectively drawing his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love you more than all the rest; that my heart doesn’t beat solely for you, Lyra, and Lynx; that I wouldn’t burn the world for you, too.”

His nod was even more resigned than his voice and less accepting of her answer than she’d like.

“Who was that you were speaking with earlier?” she asked, deviating from the pressure of the chasm seemingly permanently in place between them and smoothing her hands over the breasts of his jacket. “The man with the black, heron daemon. You were agitated.”

Asriel lifted a brow before grinning at her. “Have you been watching me?”

A slight huff escaped her as she pinched his neck. “Don’t be conceited.”

Rather than be rebuffed, he grinned all the more and pressed her back into the pillar, mouth finding purchase on hers and silencing any further questions she may have had.

Some time later, after he’d forced her to find a private place to reapply her lipstick from his zealousness, she was re-emerging into the crowd when a familiar voice caught her attention.

“Marisa, you look as elegant as ever.”

“Ross,” she stumbled before righting herself with a nail bite to the palm as she took in the dark haired man suddenly at her side, tall and handsome as the last time she’d seen him. “I mean, Lord Becker.”

His blue eyes were glinting as brightly as the twinkling lights scattered throughout the garden as he held her gaze so deeply she was forced to break it and laugh off her slip up as Oz scurried to settle at her side, his dark gaze betraying her discomfort as he shifted from the greyhound watching his every move.

“I’ve been hoping to find you at an event for some time, now. It seems you’ve disappeared from London life entirely.”

“Yes, for over a year, now,” she said, patting his arm and allowing her touch to linger a beat longer than she should have. “But it is a pleasure to see you.”

“Is it?” he asked teasingly, laying his hand over hers before she could detract it. “You haven’t called me Lord Becker in a long while. I thought we’d moved far beyond that.”

Allowing a smile to grace her face, she tilted her head as she withdrew her hand apologetically and took a measured step back. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now that I’ve married.”

“Yes, Belacqua,” Ross stated, a touch of contempt creeping into his tone as his daemon snorted her disapproval. “As I recall, you said he was a showoff with a knack for dabbling where he shouldn’t.”

“Well, I do like showing off,” Asriel cut in, hand sliding around her waist as the other extended to Ross. “Asriel Belacqua.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she forced her heart to slow and smiled as she gestured to the taller man, knowing she’d be shown no mercy from the Authority she’d so often betrayed. “This is Count Ross Becker. He’s a member-“

“Of the royal family,” Asriel finished, gauging the man with a once over so intentionally dominating she was surprised Ross didn’t flinch. “I’ve heard of you. You have some heavy clout within the Magisterium.”

“Yes, my father works closely with them.” Ross stood straighter, practically puffing his chest out and leaving her feeling like she was stuck between two idiots displaying their feathers in the wilds of Africa the Scotsman had been going on about earlier. “From what I’ve picked up, they’re not your biggest fans.”

“Nor I their’s,” Asriel chuckled.

“Nor was Marisa the last time I spoke to her,” Ross added, his eyes venturing back to her with that same intensity she was sure had lured a possessive Asriel to her side. “I admit I was taken aback when I heard of your marriage upon my return from America.”

Rather than permitting Asriel to answer, she laughed off Ross’ comment and straightened Asriel’s tie, feeling this conversation was bound to soon become too personal. “Well, Asriel and I have a... complicated history as everyone is well aware, but it was always inevitable.”

“Yes, I hear your daughter is making quite the splash at St. Catherine’s.” Ross scratched his jaw. “Though, I seem to recall you also mentioning you’d not seen her since she was born, nor had any interest in doing so. I also heard she has a brother, now... Lynx, isn’t it?”

Though, it didn’t show externally, her insides were beginning to twist uncomfortably.

“Yes,” she commented offhandedly before nodding beyond Ross. “We should really-“

“You seem to have a remarkable memory,” Asriel interjected, his voice deeper and edgier than before.

“Marisa’s hard to forget,” Ross returned, equally as pointed. “Especially considering the proposal of marriage she agreed to consider before I left for America only to shortly thereafter marry you.”

Asriel’s fingers practically seared through her dress into her hip.

“I-“ she began.

“I suppose you should have skipped the trip, then,” Asriel quipped sardonically, lifting his drink. “And stayed to seal the deal.”

Ross’ eyes flashed. “That boy, Lynx, he’s quite striking.” Ross met her gaze again as his motivations became clear and she felt a landslide that might be on a trajectory to ruin her life crashing toward her. “He doesn’t look like a Belacqua at all, does he?”

Asriel’s fingers loosened immediately as Stel gave a low growl at her side, taking a step toward the greyhound.

“He takes after me,” she stated firmly, hand grasping Asriel’s so tightly she was sure circulation was being cut off. “But he’s a Belacqua through and through.”

“Is that a fact?” Ross shrugged, running his fingers between the large canine’s ears. “I hear where the girl is wild and quick witted, he’s far more reserved.”

“He’s still just under a year,” she returned, bite to her reply. “And none of your business.”

“Don’t be offended, Marisa. I’m simply stating facts. I’d think as a man of science you’d appreciate that, Asriel.”

Her husband remained eerily quiet and still, alerting her to the case that he was thinking all sorts of false things.

“Your facts are faulty,” she snapped. 

“A little close to call it so confidently, darling.” Ross ticked off his fingers. “I left your bed in early October and from what I’ve gathered, the boy was born in late July. I may not be a man of science, but I believe the insinuation is valid.”

Beyond her capacity to deny the sticky situation she was presently drowning in, especially taking into account Asriel’s uncharacteristic silence, she resorted to blatant ridicule, “Even a man lacking common sense knows it’s difficult to conceive when you never gave over inside me.”

“Accidents happen.”

“Not to me,” she stated firmly.

“So, you just jumped right into bed with him, then? After all that time? And decided you were ready for another child with a man you claimed to hate?” he whispered hotly. “All those articles about true love and starting over. It was all bullshit, Marisa. You said he was the part of your past you regretted more than anything else.”

Doing her best to maintain her smile for those around, she relaxed and shrugged her shoulders. “Well, what can I say, he fucked the regret right out of me.” She then lifted a flute of champagne from a passing tray and handed it to Ross. “Don’t be too self-conscious about it, darling. You were perfectly adequate for the needs I had at the time.”

Ross’ blue eyes flashed. “Adequate? You agreed to consider my hand in marriage and didn’t even have the decency to wait to inform me of your answer before falling into bed with this blasphemous lowlife.”

“Careful,” she warned, tutting at him. “I truly thought you were more of a man than to whimper and carry on like this.”

“Tell me the truth, Marisa,” he said, taking a step forward. “Is he my son?”

Asriel took a step as well and she could feel in the muscles of his arm that he was straining to keep from lunging.

“Asriel,” she quickly whispered. “Don’t make a scene.”

His eyes were hard, prompting her to quickly direct her next comment to the other man. “Don’t be a fool. You know it’s impossible for him to be yours considering the circumstances of our time together.”

“And you expect me to believe you just allowed him special treatment? After he forced himself on you?”

She laughed, loud and clear as bells, taking both men by surprise. “Don’t tell me you believed that? Oh, you poor fool. I really did credit you far too much.”

The greyhound looked ready to snap Oz’s head from his neck. It would be quite the feat if she managed it, considering her daemon was perched on Stel’s back, clutching her fur in a similar manner to her own fingers around Asriel’s.

“Then, you really are the whore they say you are.”

“Very ballsy to be goading my wife right now.” Asriel finally growled, forcing past her to stand toe to toe with Ross. “The last of her lovers to do that in front of me didn’t have a very pleasant ending.”

“Are you threatening me?” The greyhound began to growl as Stel scratched at the floor between them. “Do you know who I am?”

“Of course, he’s not,” she laughed, smoothing a hand down Asriel’s arm as Oz tugged at his pants leg. “He’s just listing facts.” She took Asriel’s hand again. “My love, there’s nothing here worth pursuing.”

Her husband remained tense, worrying her that he was about to murder the man in front of them. Then, like a switch, he visibly shook off his rage, shoulders relaxing and figurative feathers displaying brightly as a smirk settled on his lips while he brought her hand to them, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lord Becker. I certainly will.”

Asriel, fingers threaded through hers, then grazed past the fuming man and pulled her along through the crowd only to be caught by the Scotsman again before he could presumably get her alone.

“Lord and Lady Belacqua, come tell these fellows of your time in Africa.”

Prepared to tell the men they couldn’t possibly, she was pulled up short by Asriel who began engaging the men. A momentary frown creased her features before she adjusted and saddled up next to him, slipping an arm around his waist. However, he continued on with his theatrical retelling, barely paying her a passing glance while proceeding to maintain a healthy amount of alcohol in his hand.

“Your lady is likely not a fan of these stories, my lord,” one man said. “You should find her fairer company.”

“Oh, Marisa is very adept at slipping into whatever role she needs to survive. I’m sure she’d fair quite well anywhere she chose to turn her gaze.”

The barbed comment went over the men’s heads as they joined in laughter spurred on by too many drinks. However, she knew it for what it was.

An accusation.

With a smile, she threaded her fingers through Asriel’s and brought them to her lips in a gesture similar to his previous one. “Only because you taught me so well, my love.”

Several drinks and a few more strategically placed comments later, she finally led him into a quiet corner and pinched his wrist. “Stop it. You’re acting like a petulant child because you’re jealous.”

Undeterred, he stepped closer into her space and wrapped his fingers around her wrists, holding them at her waist. “Don’t forget your place, Marisa.”

“My place?” she echoed, tilting her head dangerously. “And what place is that?”

“What is it they say? At least two steps behind your husband,” he sneered, the thick smell of drink on his breath. “Never shining brighter than him and never back talking.” His eyes fell to her lips. “On your knees and back, ready to be nothing more than an incubator for his children.”

Breath stuttering in spite of herself, she clenched her jaw and swallowed against the unease in her throat.

“And you can’t even complain about it, because you knew the deal when you took his name.” He leaned close to her ear. “Like a fucking leach ready to siphon every ounce of cock he’ll give you so long as you get a little power in return.”

“Is that what you think I want?” she spat, shoving him back so hard, he actually tripped over Stel and nearly fell. “I’m so sick of your arrogance. What power did you give me, Asriel? You had nothing without me and you’d still have nothing without me.”

He growled, his fingers snapping to her arms as he regained his footing and forced her back against the wall. “I’d have  _everything_ if it wasn’t for you. And you’d still be smiling pretty and dulling your brilliance for that so called pious idiot while raising his children to be little, lying posters of perfection.... or maybe you’d have found yourself another lover, Lord Becker, perhaps, to father your children in your boredom.”

“Please, tell me you don’t believe Ross,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes even as she flinched under his vice grip. “I swear on our children’s souls-“

“Their souls?” he quickly mocked, eyes blown wide as he leaned away a bit. “You mean the ones you’re trying to destroy? Those souls, Marisa?”

“If I’d wanted Ross over you, I would have had him,” she spat. “He was eating out of the palm of my hand and you showed up mere days after he proposed and wormed your way into my bed, _again.”_

Asriel stood straighter, hands falling from her as he stared slack jawed at her. “Your backup plan.”

“What?” she muttered, confused at his shift as she resisted the urge to rub her throbbing arms.

“You said you already had someone picked out to play our baby’s father if I didn’t marry you. It was him.”

“Yes,” she answered, perplexed by his late realization. “I thought that was obvious.”

He nodded and glanced back toward the garden, brow creased deep again.

“Asriel, tell me you believe me,” she urged, touching his cheek to call him back to her. “That you know our son is yours. That I would never bear another man’s child.”

All the air seemed to leave him as he nodded. “I don’t really have a choice, do I? He’s Lyra’s brother and I’ve thought of him as mine since you said you were pregnant. I believed you then and when my mother made the accusation. I may as well believe you now, too.”

Tears threatened to fall, but she refused to permit them the opportunity.“We made him... you and I, together.”

A groan permeated the air between them. “I said I believed you.”

“But you don’t,” she pressed, tears once again threatening her dignity, which she was beginning to realize was long gone where Asriel was concerned. “I’ll tell you everything; every touch I gave him.”

“I don’t want to know how you fucked other men, Marisa,” he snapped, hands pressing to his eyes. “Anymore than you want to hear of the other women.”

“My love, you’re nothing like him, like any of them.”

“Any of them,” he repeated in an exhausted tone, hands at her sides again as his head fell back to look at the stars. “You really are a whore, aren’t you, love?”

Sapped of any rational thought, she felt as though she were short circuiting. He may as well have slapped her.

“Why? Because I’m a woman? How many women have you slept with, Asriel?” she whispered, voice trembling. “I thought you had more respect for me than that.”

“You want to talk about respect?” His hand settled in the back of her hair, tight and rough as his eyes flashed to hers. “What about the respect you have for our daughter? Have you told her yet? That you’re the big, bad wolf gobbling up her friends?”

“I won’t justify myself to you anymore.”

“Of course not,” he concluded. “You’ll never tell her because you know she’ll be less forgiving than your church for murdering children and being a pathological liar.”

“Asriel, what do you want me to do?” she snapped, tired of games and pretending. “Throw everything away and wait on you and the children hand and foot? If you truly loved me the way you say, you wouldn’t ask that of me.”

“Of course not! I just want you, Marisa.” His fingers tightened around her. “Stop hiding things from me. Stop lying to me. Every time I turn around, there’s something new you’ve kept secret from me.”

“I swear there is nothing else,” she promised, meaning it. “I didn’t think it would matter. You knew I had other lovers. It never even occurred to me to mention him. He’s not the first man to propose to me in your absence.”

A heaviness settled in his face and for a moment he looked so like Lyra it stole her breath. The way his lips pursed and his eyes took on that far off look, like he was some other place, lost in imagination. It was a quality she’d noticed in another member of their family, too.

“My love, this is absurd. You know Lynx is yours. I woul-“ Her voice broke off as she cupped his face. “I would never lie about that.”

His sighed and leaned to press into her, inhaling her scent and nuzzling at her neck, taking her aback at the gesture. It seems that was all he intended to do, today.

“What are you doing?”

“Pretending,” he whispered, slipping his hands up her back to hold her close.

“We can’t pretend about this,” she said, tilting her head away from him. “I need to know you believe me.”

“I do,” he answered, reaching out to caress her cheek.

“Asriel-“

“I’d never treat you as Edward or any of the others. What I said about your place... To me, you’re none of those things. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course, I know that, but-“

“Then, let’s not fight about this anymore,” he sighed. “There’s no point. Nothing’s changed.”

Torn between confusion and just wanting to be finished with this, the latter won out at the slight hope that he did in fact believe her.

_ Weak, _her mother would say.

“You’ll come home with me, then?” she asked after a moment, searching him out for further doubt.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.”

He finally smiled, soft and tired as he swiped a hand through her hair to brush it back over her shoulder. Still, doubt clung to her.

He chuckled, pressing into her as his thumbs lifted to stroke her cheeks. “You devious, little monkey. How many hearts have you broken?”

Shaking her head, she returned his smile and replied, “None that have mattered... except for you.”

In the wake of her confession, he simply stared at her, picking her apart. Normally, she hated it because she knew he could see the nastiness within her, the sheer malice she held for everyone but him. Now, though, she stared right back at him, letting him dig and plunder her eyes to his heart’s content.

When he finally pressed his forehead to hers, eyes falling closed, he whispered, “I love you so much that I hate you sometimes, Marisa.”

“As long as you never leave me, that’s fine.”

A single chuckle escaped him before he took her hand. “Is it alright if we find somewhere a little more lively to be, Lady Belacqua? I believe we’ve reached our quota for theatrical drama for the evening.”

“Agreed.”

As they wove through the garden to the entrance, ignoring well wishes and pleas for them to stay, she allowed herself a moment to consider the one eighty they’d just done; going from cold sniping to tender caresses. It left her feeling even more muddled than earlier in the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also used my time to further show my obsession and make another Fanvid. It’s my 4th one for these two and another one is nearly finished as well. Check back this evening for that one if interested.  
The Devil Within  
https://youtu.be/aSn9Vj5hEgI


	21. The Smoking Barrel

“Where on earth are you taking me?” she pondered aloud, avoiding yet another puddle in the half hazardly paved street.

For some time now, the buildings and various shops they’d passed had grown less and less welcoming as they’d left behind the familiar glamour of London for somewhere that could never be mistaken for anything remotely resembling glamorous. On their way back to the apartment, Asriel had redirected the driver to take a number of odd turns until their cab had finally stopped a block back with Asriel instructing the man not to wait. She’d opened her mouth to voice her concerns and override Asriel’s suggestion only to be hauled from the vehicle into the warm night air.

From the looks of the area, she was beginning to think Asriel would make her walk another few blocks in the heels she’d have never worn had she known of this turn of events in advance. At least, that’s what she hoped he would do as nothing within view seemed ‘lively’ in her opinion.

“You’ll see,” he said for the dozenth time in response to her insistent questions.

She hated surprises. All they amounted to were other people trying to catch you off guard and she didn’t value the sentiment of them at all.

To make matters more undesirable, the people had also grown more and more suspect as they ventured further into the sea of what she considered utter filth. Tailored suits became raggedy coats. Stylish heels were replaced with muddy, worn boots and lack of hygiene steadily became the norm as well as the smell of complete poverty, a stench that had its place in the world so long as it was far removed from her.

Added to it all was the rumble of a few barges close by, the horns alerting her to the fact that they were near the river. It was then that it occurred to her quite suddenly that the scattered groups of people they encountered as they walked were comprised mostly of Gyptians, leaving her to once again wonder just where Asriel was dragging her. Was he taking her to have her strung up by these people? Was he finally finished with her as her latest secret, which wasn’t even a _real_ secret, came to light?

Stel was guiding them with Oz bounding at her side, gaze wandering all around as he remained underfoot, causing the leopard to give an annoyed snarl as she snatched him by the scruff of his neck and swung him to her back. It was there that he whipped around and gave her a reproachful glare as he smoothed down his mussed fur as if telling her this was her fault. Rolling her eyes, she held out her free hand as if asking what he expected her to do. They were in the middle of no where.

When Asriel finally came up short in front of a chipped, green door, she frowned and glanced through the dusty windows on either side as Stel prowled the sidewalk around them._ The Smoking Barrel_ seemed to be the name of what she’d generously call a pub.

“Asriel, did you do all this to get rid of me?” she half teased, hand a little clammy in his as she hoped this had all been a bad joke on his part.

He cast her a winning grin as he pushed the door open, allowing the folksy music to grow louder and permeate the air around them.

“Are you afraid?”

“Hardly,” she scoffed, even as she huddled closer to him as a clearly drunken man and woman stumbled out, giggling and coughing as the warm night air swarmed them.

“Enjoy,” the fair haired man said, grasping the wall for support as the woman giggled again at his side, her sparrow swaying on her shoulder. “It’s a busy one, tonight.”

As the couple continued past them, Asriel tightened his grip on her hand and tugged, only for her to hold her place, arm outstretched as he stepped through the door. At her lack of movement, he glanced back, the skin around his eyes creasing as she rushed to explain, “Asriel, this is hardly appropriate.”

His face hardened momentarily, causing questions to whirl through her mind, before he rejoined her in the evening air. “Don’t be a snob. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” she breathed, quieting and stepping aside as someone else exited, drawing their hat down in a show of politeness before continuing on. “I’m uncomfortable.”

The admission caused Asriel’s eyes to soften as he lifted her knuckles to his lips. “I’d never put you in harm’s way.”

Once again the door opened and people exited, giving her a view of the excitement within the establishment. For a long moment, she stared at a spot on the door over his shoulder where the paint had chipped so badly it revealed the former rusty, orange color beneath it.

“We won’t stay long?”

“I promise.”

Finally relenting, she allowed herself to be pulled into the room, if it could be called that as it seemed to be a claustrophobic mess of chaos and anarchy, tinted with a golden hue from the lights, the smoke within making it all the more difficult to see just what she’d stepped into upon entering. The smell, though, that was something special all on its own. It couldn’t be manufactured, only made from years of uncleanliness from what she’d guess was sweat, grease, and piss.

As her eyes adjusted, she found herself in the midst of at least fifty to seventy patrons, mostly consisting of Gyptians from what she could make out.

“Asriel!”

A burly, middle aged man with hair like fire sprang forward to grasp Asriel’s shoulders and pull him into a suffocating hug as his terrier daemon trotted up to Stel with familiarity.

“Thomas,” Asriel returned, an expression of... well, it was very different than what she was used to seeing him display. If she wasn’t mistaken, he actually seemed more relaxed than when he was in the company of their usual contemporaries. Then again, he’d had his fair share of intake earlier at the gala and she was beginning to conclude it had affected him more than she’d previously thought.

“It’s been some time since we seen you down here,” Thomas commented, thumping Asriel on the chest. “What’s kept you?”

Asriel chuckled and slipped an arm around her waist, fingers grasping at her opposite hip as he pulled her close. “I’m afraid I’ve gone and gotten myself married.”

“No,” Thomas exclaimed with a belly laugh before stepping around to inspect her, brown eyes dancing up and down her. “Well, I can hardly blame you with a mare like this. What’s yer name, love?”

Falling into her practiced poise, she gifted the man with a bright smile and answered, “Marisa...” She side eyed her watchful husband pointedly. “Belacqua.”

His grin was instantaneous and obnoxiously proud. Was this what he wanted? To show her off like his prized mare? If that was the case, she would have played the part eagerly anywhere else. Who was there really to impress here?

“And what’s a pretty thing like you doin with a thick skulled ruffian like this? Surely, there was some other choice?”

“Countless better choices,” she quipped, smile unwavering as she relaxed at the man’s gentle probing before leaning in to conspiratorially add, “But none so scandalous.”

Thomas guffawed again, this time unexpectedly wrapping his thick arms around her and hauling her off her feet. “Good choice, Asriel. I approve.”

When she finally was on her own two feet again, coming away with an extra layer of sweat, she caught Asriel’s amused grin and wrinkled her nose in disapproval.

“I should get my lady sat down, Tom,” Asriel said, fingers threading through hers as he began to back into the crowd with a shout, “But we’ll catch up soon.”

As they meandered through the throngs of people, weaving in and out of the bustle, she noticed a number of the patrons patting Asriel on the back and offering him rounds of drinks.

“How do you know these people so well?” she asked a bit gruffly, allowing him to pull her down beside him in a corner booth, farthest from the center of the room. “It seems I’m not the only one with secrets.”

Asriel rested an arm around her back as he shifted to face her, a heavy sigh easing through his nose. “When you don’t have anything, your choice of company becomes limited. I did them a favor once and they in turn helped me out when I needed boarding and a hot meal.”

The tinge of bitterness in his voice was hard to detect, but she heard it as well as felt it in the way his muscle tensed around her. Choosing to ignore it, she carried on, eyes flitting around the room.

“So, you frequented this place?”

“More often than anywhere else.”

“On the house,” the barmaid said, setting a pair of mugs in front of them while smiling at Asriel. “It’s been a while. You’ve been missed around here.”

Asriel returned her smile smoothly and, if asked, she’d say flirtingly as his charm began to pour from his lips like honey from its comb. “Have I now?”

Repressing the urge to roll her eyes, she dug her nails into Asriel’s thigh, feeding off his flinch, as her patience began to wane.

The woman barely spared a glance at her as she went on, leaning her hip into the table and crossing her arms. She was pretty enough, but not so pretty as to have the confidence and lack of poise she was now giving off, like she owned the room and Asriel to boot.

“You have certain tolerable... attributes.”

Asriel’s lips curled as he settled his arm around her waist. “Anna, this is my wife, Marisa.”

“Wife?” Anna’s fairy like laugh was incredulous as her eyes darted between them before her expression slowly sobered, her grey eyes becoming frostier. “I hardly thought you the type for marriage.”

She gave a dazzling smile to hide the possessive jealousy gripping her heart in a vice. “It takes a certain type to tame him... well, as much as he can be tamed.” Her gaze shifted to her husband, eyes falling to his mouth as she toyed with her bottom lip between her teeth. “Though, I don’t mind the intolerable animal every now and again.”

Anna made a little noise that thrilled her to her core as she presumably tucked her tail to return to the hole she’d crawled out of while Asriel’s pearly whites bared with the lift of his lips.

“Was she a good fuck?”

“Good enough.” A scoff slipped from her as she turned away from him only to feel his breath tickle her ear. “But hardly to your caliber.” There was a pinch at her lobe where he nipped. “She had no _bite.”_

Oz gave an unimpressed grunt as he hopped to the seat’s ledge behind her, doing a worse job of hiding his annoyance than she. Needing a drink, she eyed the mug in front of her, knowing it was going to be far below her usual standards.

“Don’t be a snob,” he murmured, picking his up and taking a generous gulp.

“I’m simply trying to figure out why you’ve brought me here. Are you still angry?”

An amused groan built at the back of his throat as he turned to face her again, moving his arm to the seat behind her. “Are you incapable of just letting go and enjoying yourself?”

“It’s rather difficult to relax when I feel as though I’m in the midst of a pointed attack,” she mused, eyes on his as she lifted the drink to her lips, allowing the taste to swarm her tastebuds in a surprisingly non-revolting way.

The slight curve of his lips sent a ripple of annoyance through her as his fingers lightly brushed Oz’s tail, where he sat grooming himself, high above the leopard’s reach.

Stel, whose eyes were on Oz over her shoulder, gave a huff as she rested her large head in her lap below the table, golden eyes remaining focused on the elusive primate, leaving her to be inundated by both of them while he escaped.

“If I were attacking you,” he said lowly, leaning close. “You’d know.”

“Then, this isn’t to immerse me and make me feel guilty?”

“If you feel guilty about something, that’s on you, love.”

“I don’t,” she quipped, fingers curling at the back of Stel’s neck, drawing a growl from the leopard and a flinch in Asriel’s cheek.

When his own fingers snaked into the back of her hair with a sharp pull, her breath caught at the danger glinting in his stormy blue.

“Not even a little?” he murmured, gaze traipsing over every facet of her face as the hem of her dress began to tickle up her legs. “Perhaps a scrap.” The pads of his fingers lighted along her skin as her hem reached her knee. “A tiny morsel.” Featherlike digits crept up her thigh, catching her dress at his wrist as it ghosted along her flesh. “The barest touch of regret.”

Unable to help the smirk that spread across her lips, she stroked Stel’s fur a little more firmly as his dark eyes practically penetrated her, mimicking the exploration within her sex.

“Not even the briefest flicker,” she whispered, voice deepened from the desire being stoked by the steady pulsing between her folds while internally scolding herself for already being so ready and willing at his touch.

He opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted.

“Well, if you’re not going to dance with the lady, I will,” Thomas said, appearing out of the sea of people. “A lady such as this deserves a proper spin, Belacqua. I thought you’d know that with your fancy breeding.”

Asriel’s eyes danced with mirth as he held up his hands which had devastatingly departed from their place of wickedness beneath the table. “I suppose you should teach me how it’s done, then.”

And like that, she was swept from the booth and half carried to the center of the room by the huge man, who proceeded to move in a variety of ways that were a far cry from proper dancing. To his credit, the man was so easy going, she felt herself finally relaxing into the atmosphere, adjusting to the expectation of the people surrounding her. Eyes were on her and she could see the mixture of feelings permeating the room. Curiosity. Envy. Adoration. Just as she was adjusting to Thomas, she was then occupied by another older patron and then yet another thinner one. By the time, she was back with Thomas, her feet were beginning to ache.

“So, where’d he find ya at anyhow?” Thomas asked, holding her hand in his massive one as she spun from him with a laugh. “Can’t imagine that scoundrel charming a lady like you.”

“Oh, it’s a long story,” she sidestepped, coming back to him and laying her hands to his broad shoulders. “We met a very long time ago.”

“Ah, took em that long to woo ya, eh?” he asked with a wink, his surprising charm actually drawing a laugh from her.

“Something like that,” she mused, finding herself actually enjoying the man’s terrible flirting.

“Well, I jest, but that one’s a good catch, if ya don’t mind me saying. He comes from that good stock of snobby Londoners. He ain’t never looked down on us and always treats us with respect.”

A foreign feeling occupied her mind as Thomas guffawed again at something he’d said and gave her another spin, this time right into Asriel’s arms. Upon catching her, Asriel looked upon her breathless appearance with a laugh, “I hope you haven’t worn my wife out before I get a spin out of her, Thomas.”

“She’s quick on her feet. Watch yerself or I’ll sweep her away. I believe there’s a line forming.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Asriel chuckled, taking her in his arms and pulling her flush to him, his earthy cologne a welcome reprieve from the lack of hygiene her dance partners seemed to maintain.

“My beautiful monkey,” Asriel murmured into her ear, hands pressing along her waist where he began to sway them back and forth.

In his arms, she felt comforted and the weariness in her bones began to make itself known as she gave her weight to him, delighting in the way he tightened his hold and rested his head against hers. She could only imagine how ridiculous they looked, their attire a beacon of wealth in the midst of so many impoverished people. The engagement ring on her finger could buy the entire establishment they were standing in and the earrings dangling on either side of her head were likely worth more than all the jewelry in the room. Then, there was the fact that he was the great Lord Asriel, known for fucking, drinking, and his hot temper, wrapped up in his wife, seemingly content to sway there with her all night long.

“We’re hardly ever alone like this,” she murmured, turning her face into his cheek and inhaling his soft cologne. “It’s nice.”

“Even here?” he chuckled, ducking to kiss her, then lingering to nuzzle her, too, as he lifted a hand to cup her cheek. “I do enjoy showing you off. There’s no woman more intoxicating. I imagine they’ll all hate me now.”

A smile touched her lips as she wove her fingers through his hair and pulled him into another kiss, this one promising, drawing a groan up his throat as his other hand dipped further down, pressing at her middle to draw her body harder into his.

However, before the promise could truly stick, they were interrupted by a few fisherman who practically carried Asriel off to the bar where they bought a round of drinks and told tales of the voyages and the myths of the seas as they drank themselves into a stupor.

Asriel kept pace with them, drink for drink, as they seemed to think him too soft blooded to keep up.

“Our very own Lord,” they exclaimed, handing him a dart. “Let’s see your balance, now.”

Asriel made a show of stumbling to the line and squinting at the board before casting her a grin and letting the dart loose to find a home below the board.

A round of mixed disappointment and cheer went up as bets had been placed upon Lord Asriel’s tolerance.

“Can’t win them all,” Asriel jested, patting a few boys on the shoulder before returning to her side. “Perhaps, my wife can outshine me.” At this, Asriel held out a dart to her with another grin. “It’s your place to outshine me after all. Place it true and I’ll be at your beck and call for the rest of the night.” His lips ghosted her ear. “Miss and you’re at mine.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Lord Belacqua,” she quipped, finding her feet and taking her place at the line to the sound of a few whistles.

Asriel might have been playful in his drunkenness, but she was mostly sober and after the asshole he’d been off and on all evening, she intended to have her reward.

Her aim was true enough as it landed just below the bullseye, earning a cheer so great, she felt her ears popping. Apparently, besting her husband was to the amusement of anyone watching.

Hands wound around her waist as his voice vibrated into the crook of her neck. “It seems I’m at your service, my lady.”

Desire shot from her cheeks to her sex then ricocheted right to her belly where it felt like he’d released a swarm of butterflies. “Then, on your knees, my lord.”

The eyes in the room did nothing to temper Asriel’s fervor at her neck as his hands moved to just below her breasts, smoothing beneath the heavy flesh as a single swipe of his thumbs over her nipples set her aflame.

Distance might make the heart grow fonder, but it also made the sex a damned wonder.

Soon, she found herself pressed into the wall of an empty back hallway, his hands lost in her dress as she held fast to his shoulders, the soft moans escaping her dizzying in light of his mouth at her pulse.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve done this somewhere other than our home,” she chuckled, fingers tugging at the back of his shirt, freeing the material from his pants, allowing her hands to take advantage of the wide expanse of heated skin readily available for her exploration.

“Degenerate monkey,” he murmured, mouth settling on hers with a grunt as he thrust a second finger to join the first inside her aching sex.

His kiss was sloppy, thick with the taste of the beer he’d been chugging with the sailors, leaving an aftertaste on the roof of her mouth when he retracted his tongue and began devouring her chin.

Every nerve in her body was alive for him, his body as hard and firm as the wall at her back. Then, his thumb was toying with that throbbing bundle of nerves and her head was falling back as the euphoria took her right out of the dingy, grimy pub and straight to a whole other world.

As every muscle in her body tightened, he chased her lips, his hot breath making her drunk as his thumb slowed to draw soft circles around her sex.

“Better?” he murmured pridefully, drawing a chuckle from the back of her throat.

“I’m certainly more relaxed.”

“I want to fuck you, Marisa,” he whispered, lips leaving a wet trail to her ear. “Burrow deep and never leave.”

“Mmm,” she sighed, the satisfaction practically dripping off her like the tension that’d been occupying her shoulders all day. “Take me home and you can do whatever you want.”

A growl escaped him as he removed his hand and dropped her dress, smoothing his hands down the material until he had her fingers caught in his.

“Let me...” She gestured to the restroom further down the hall.

He cleared his throat and grinned as he released her. “I’ll be by the door.”

After tidying herself, she began making her way back into the larger area in search of her husband. When she finally caught sight of Asriel, he was deep in conversation with two men close to the door. Once again, Asriel seemed agitated and it brought to mind the man from earlier, the one with the black heron.

Oz jumped to the back of a chair to observe as well. “He’s angry. Be careful.”

Noting his suggestion, she was a few feet away when the men ceased their heated whispers as Oz climbed to Stel’s shoulders, his fingers digging deep into her fur.

The older man, weathered eyes kind and soft gave her a warm smile.

Asriel, on the other hand, was having a more difficult time wiping the frown from his face as he cleared his throat and gestured to the older man. “Marisa, this is Fader Coram.”

Gathering herself and willing the blushstill coating her cheeks away, she gave the man a smile only for him to laugh. “E’nt no one interested in who I am, but everyone’s already talking about you, ma’am.”

“Of course,” Asriel said, the lightness in his tone forced as he reached out for her hand. “She does have the tendency to create a stir.”

“He e’nt ever brought a proper lady around these parts. I believe our women are all heart broke, now. They were hoping to make a proper Gyptian outta him.”

So, they were. She’d noticed more than one hot look from the fairer sex, which was of course nothing out of the ordinary, but still... Most of the women she usually caught throwing jealous stares weren’t carrying knives on their person.

“Is that a fact?” she teased, slipping her fingers through his. “I can’t say I’m sorry to disappoint them. I’m quite attached.”

“Broken hearts everywhere,” Asriel proclaimed with a grunt before gesturing to the other man. “And this is John Faa, King of the Western Gyptians.”

The man gave a tilt of his head, but made no further formalities when it came to politeness. It unnerved her as it was a rare thing in her company for anyone, man or not, to forgo at least smiling at her.

“So, you’ve known Asriel a long time?”

“Oh, yes,” Coram answered and she felt he was making the attempt to diffuse the tension between the other two. “He’s good to us. Saved two of our boys during The Great Flood.”

“Ah,” she smiled brightly, running her other hand along Asriel’s arm. “Perhaps, that’s where our daughter gets it.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about that one,” the old man chuckled as his daemon, a cat, purred at his neck. “Stubborn streak and enough resolve to lead a platoon of Gyptian boys to war.”

Asriel joined in the man’s amusement, his pride for Lyra seeping out. “She’s surely that.”

  
The conversation staled, Asriel’s moment of lightness fading while the other man still stood quietly, observing the two of them like you might with a fish out of water.

  
  
“How are you enjoying Oxford, Mrs. Belacqua?” Coram suddenly asked, as if the thought had sprang to mind and he’d jumped at it. “It’s quite the change from these here parts.”

Pulled from her musing, she smiled at the older man. “It’s quiet, too quiet sometimes, but I grew up not too far from there.”

“Oh?”

“Marisa’s of the Delamare family,” Asriel clarified.

The older man gave a startled cough before recovering with a chuckle as his cat jumped to the floor and slithered between his ankles. “Excuse me.”

“I take it you know my mother,” she offered with an easy smile. “She often incites a similar reaction from me.”

“No, ma’am,” he apologized, nervously swiping his hand across the front of his coat. “It’s yer father I knew. Made a few trades with him a number of years back.”

A sense of knowing passed through her as the man’s eyes suddenly avoided hers. For all of a second, she wondered if she’d forgotten his face and found her breath faltering as her nails dug into Asriel’s palm, but dismissed it just as quickly as she knew she wouldn’t have forgotten him. He simply knew.

Oz gave a pained yelp beside her, wringing the fur at Stel’s neck, causing her to flinch as Asriel’s fingers brushed over the top of his head comfortingly.

It took a moment for her to realize why the old man’s eyes had widened before he began busying himself with looking anywhere else. Nails automatically driving into Asriel’s palm, she took the opportunity to glance at her husband scoldingly, demanding with her gaze for him to cease touching her daemon immediately.

It simply wasn’t done.

Asriel rolled his eyes, but stuffed his hand in his pocket nonetheless. It had been a thoughtless gesture on his part as they’d become so accustomed to the mutual affection given to each other’s daemons. While he may not care about the public display, she knew others wouldn’t take to it.

“Any news about the Parslow boy?” John Faa asked, eyes lingering on her a beat longer than was comfortable. “We know how close of a friend he is to your girl.”

Asriel lifted a hand to run through his hair and sighed, “Nothing, I’m afraid. Lyra’s quite beside herself. She blames herself for leaving the boy no matter how much we tell her they’d have both been taken if she hadn’t. If I ever get my hands on the people who did this, it won’t end well for them.”

The tone to his voice left little to the imagination and it unnerved her more than the actual conversation. If she wasn’t so careful, she’d think the king knew exactly who she was and her role in things the way his eyes kept flickering so intently toward her, making her own suspicion creep up her spine.

“Odd that they came so close to your daughter,” John Faa added. “It seems they tend to lean more toward our side of things.”

“I know, but when people are deranged enough to take children, I don’t think we can rely on them to be too focused on who they’re taking.”

The dig settled in her very bones, prompting her hand to go slack in his.  
  


  
“The State Police can’t be bothered with it. Apparently, our children aren’t as important as the daughter of a Magisterium employee.”

“And what is your opinion, Mrs. Belacqua?” Fader Coram asked softly. “On this stealing of our children?”

Asriel let go of her limp hand and slipped his arm around her waist, his hand settling on her opposite hip and pulling her into his side.

“The same as my husband,” she said evenly, keeping her eyes steady. “If I ever get my hands on the men who hurt my daughter, there’ll be no mercy shown.”

It was the absolute truth.

“And the Magisterium,” John Faa continued, folding his arms as he studied her, dark eyes sweeping. “What is their stance on these snatchings?”

His daemon shook out her wings as she made a squawking noise at Oz, who was too far from her grasp to keep him from snarling.

“I couldn’t say. That falls beyond my realm of influence.”

The man didn’t falter. “From what I hear, your influence is extensive.”

“And yet... nothing of these horrors have reached my ears, but, I assure you, the moment they do, your people will be the first to know.”

The man stood straighter, his dark gaze hard. “I’d think as a mother, you’d be doing all you could with the influence you have to bring this matter to the forefront of the Magisterium’s priorities. The boy was your daughter’s friend after all.”

Stel gave a low growl as she brushed against her leg, blessedly over the material of her dress and not directly against her flesh as she moved to stand in front of her.

“And every resource I have is being utilized to bring him home,” she replied, the truth always easier to manipulate than an outright lie. “We’re not even certain he was taken in the same manner as the others.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Your daughter told the Costa boy it was Gobblers who took him.”

“Like her father, our daughter has an over active imagination ,” she laughed lightly before turning to Asriel with a sigh. “I’m tired, my love. I’ll wait for you outside.”

Asriel nodded as she turned back to the men. John Faa’s gaze lingered, studying her intently. In return, she smiled at him, her cool, innocent deception as second nature as breathing. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, gentlemen.”

As Asriel bid them goodnight with the promise to visit soon, she pushed the door open and slipped out before he could follow.

The street was quieter, the night air a touch cooler. Impatience began to snap at her nerves as she waited for him to join her, which he didn’t notice as he was now bidding Thomas a good night as well as Anna who’d managed to slide up next to him. His utter indifference reminded her of what an asshole he’d been to her since his return, flitting between devotion and repulsion and settling with standing by as she was interrogated. He’d probably planned the entire thing, happy to watch her flounder under the same questions he’d contented himself with weighing her down with for weeks.

Heart dancing with contempt, options flew through her mind. She could leave, should leave. He’d catch up when he noticed she was gone. Then again, she didn’t really know where she was, but that was little matter.

With a glance to her right, she found the street to be darker than she recalled it being when they’d walked down it earlier. Any number of things could happen if she began the journey back on her own and they all rushed through her mind in a landslide of anticlimactic scenarios. No cabs seemed to be available at the ready and the urchins leaning against the wall a few buildings down had her eyes back on the door in a hurry.

Going back inside with him, though, was even more ridiculous. She was not a puppet on strings for him to push and pull as he pleased and she certainly wasn’t going to go in and give him the satisfaction of knowing she was scared.

“Marisa,” Oz crooned, when she turned on her heel and began walking away as he hurried alongside her while casting a worrisome glance over his shoulder. “It’s too far.”

“I’m not going back in,” she spat, finding her resolve and stealing herself for the inevitable comments she’d get as soon as she passed the three men leaning a few dozen feet ahead, their leering eyes already on her.

Whether it would be her face or her clearly expensive dress that drew their attention first was the truly debatable topic as she neared. They pushed off the wall and turned toward her only to fall back against it a moment later.

Asriel’s voice made her jump as she was whirled around with a hand suddenly gripping hers. “You impossible, woman. What are you doing?”

“Fuck you,” she spat, reaching out to slap him, hand stinging as it came away from his startled face. “Fuck your pretending and your moral high ground.”

“Marisa, what are you-“

As he tried to touch her, she shoved him back. “Why did you really bring me here?” 

“What?” He looked back toward the pub before turning back to her with an incredulous look, his hands held out as through in surrender.

“You could’ve taken me anywhere. Why here?”

He scoffed, looking to Oz as though he’d deliver the answer for the mad woman in front of him. “Must we really do this now?”

Eyes steady, she waited, observing as he looked around before realizing she wouldn’t back down and visibly deflating, shrugging his shoulders and running a hand through his hair as the handprint on his face remained like a flame in the darkness.

“I like it here. I’ve spent a great deal of time with these people.”

“Fucking them,” she offered evenly. “Beguiling them into thinking you’re a good man.”

His eyes returned to hers as he laughed, “_You’re_ going to judge _me?_ About fucking and beguiling?”

“So it has nothing to do with manipulating me?” she asked, disregarding his questions. “Attempting to make me feel sorry for them?”

The amusement slipped from his features as he stilled. “Do you?”

“I told you I was done justifying myself to you.” She threw her hand in the direction they’d come from. “Was that an interrogation? What have you told them?”

Asriel took a step back as an offended look settled in his features, one deeper than when she’d slapped him. “Have I told- Have you lost your fucking mind?”

Perhaps, she had. 

“They’re suspicious of anyone who works for the Magisterium as they have been historically treated as the scum beneath their feet.” Asriel held out his hands. “If you feel guilty or on the spot, Marisa, it’s because you  _are_ the person stealing their children.”

Quickly looking around to see who might be listening, she cast wide eyes at her husband before turning on her heel and walking up the street. She knew the river was close. She’d follow it until she found a cab or made it back to her apartment. What she would not do was entertain that man a moment longer.

“Marisa,” he groaned, the heavy pad of his boots right behind her. “Wait.”

Not to be stopped, she kept going until she reached the end of the street and glanced both ways, unsure which way she was actually supposed to turn. Had they passed that yellow building? Eyes falling closed, she let out a frustrated groan.

Oz sat beside her, his gaze set behind them.

“_Don’t look at them_,” she snapped, eyes blazing toward him.

“Stel nodded left,” he sighed, starting in that direction, leaving her to now follow him as their lovers remained about a dozen feet behind them.

“We should wait for them,” Oz suggested. “They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Shut up,” she bit, groaning as her heel caught a crack in the pavement, nearly sending her to the ground. “Take them off.”

Oz grumbled as he set about removing her heels, handing them to her one at a time until she was barefoot and padding along the rough pavement again.

The night was quiet, the breeze gentle as she made it to the river and finally knew which way was home by the current’s path. It had been at least ten minutes of her steadily walking and chewing on the worry that she’d possibly overreacted.

“They were protecting us,” Oz spoke to the silence. “Didn’t you see the way he held us? The way he spoke of the organization. He was throwing them off.”

“He called us deranged,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “He was being honest.”

“Look.”

Finding him staring in the direction they’d come, she cast a curious glance over her shoulder to find Asriel and Stel in a clearly heated argument with Asriel gesturing toward them dramatically. It wasn’t something she often observed as they had one of the more in tune relationships she’d ever seen between a man and his daemon.

“He’ll leave us again,” Oz whimpered, slamming his fist to the ground so hard she felt the ache in her hand. “We don’t want that. We won’t be able to bear it.”

When the two noticed they were being watched, they stiffened in unison and stood straighter, waiting.

“For fuck’s sake,” she murmured, head falling back and eyes closed. “He is not my child.”

“No, he’s our heart. We should better care for it.”

As if thundering its agreement, her heart gave a lurch at the comment and she opened her eyes, settling on the twinkling stars, the only witnesses to her turmoil.

His steps were light as he moved beside her and paused, his silence welcoming as the corner of her eye caught him following her gaze to the stars.

“You make me infuriatingly conflicted,” she whispered, voice soft, so soft he may not have even heard. “On the one hand, I’d love to stab you in the throat with my heel and watch you bleed out on the sidewalk.”

She didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning.

“On the other, I want to bind myself to you so you can never, ever leave me because I know without you I’ll wither into nothing.”

The silence returned and she wondered if he would curse her, tell her she was too difficult.

“Well,” he said after a moment. “What’s it going to be?”

With a heavy sigh, she shook her head. “Please, just take me home.”

Rather than moving to do so, Asriel simply stood there, and, after a moment’s hesitation, she frowned and tilted her head toward him only to find him staring at her, eyes dancing over her with a light smile touching his lips. He looked more like a man about to propose than one ready to leave her desolate on the side of the road.

“Do you find this amusing?”

“No, my love,” he said, shifting his feet as his hands remained deep in his pockets. “I’m just taking a moment.”

“A moment for what?”

“Do I need a reason to stare at the woman I love?”

His earnestness only furthered her agitation, drawing a staggered breath up her throat. “Asriel...”

“You are the mother of my children, Marisa; my wife. I would never let anyone hurt you and if I thought for a moment that those men meant you harm...” He reached out and took her heels from her before taking her hand in his free one and coaxing her closer. “I’d kill them myself.”

Eyes falling closed, she leaned into his chest. “I was scared.”

“I know,” he whispered, arms wrapping around her as he kissed the top of her head. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

He did. She knew he did. The security of his arms were the safest place she could ever dream of being as she steadied her breathing, sure she could fall right to sleep.

“I’d like to go home and have you burrow into me, now.”

“I might be too intoxicated to do much of anything besides burrow into a pillow,” he murmured with a chuckle. “Those sailors really know how to toss them back.”

Smiling into his shirt, she tilted her head up and placed a quick kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry I slapped you.”

He rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to his still inflamed cheek. “You’re a complete mad woman. That fucking hurt.”

Unable to help laughing at his whimpering, she caressed the area and whispered, ”Get me to our bed and I’ll make it up to you.”

“Here,” he murmured, removing his jacket and placing it around her shoulders. “Wait here. I’ll call for us a cab.”

As he set off toward the closest public building, she sighed and turned back toward the river, burying her hands in the deep pockets of the jacket.

“See? We were being difficult for no reason.”

“I have plenty of reason to be difficult with him,” she replied, eyes on the distant barges moving over the water. “We shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

“He wanted to share it with us. We should be grateful.”

Rolling her eyes at the sentimentality of a creature usually content to smash bugs under his fists for fun, she adjusted her stance and felt her fingers brush something in the right pocket of the jacket. When she pulled it out, it appeared to be a napkin from the gala earlier.

“What is it?” Oz asked, dark eyes curious as he moved closer. “There’s writing on it.”

“It’s numbers,” she murmured, brow creased as she studied the napkin, turning it in her hand, studying the pattern that seemed to repeat with a few variations in the number sets. “I don’t-“

“Coordinates,” Oz exclaimed, alive with energy. “Latitude and Longitude.”

“But of where? It’s not in his hand. Someone else gave this to him.”

“A car will be here in a few minutes,” Asriel said, coming up behind her, causing her to jump and discretely pocket the napkin once more before turning to him with a smile.

He eyed her a moment, a flicker of suspicion in his gaze. “What’s that look?”

“You startled me,” she laughed, reaching out for his hand.

The muscles in his face relaxed at her touch as he wrapped around her again. “It’s not often that I get to surprise you.”

“Consider yourself lucky.” She smiled and shoved the napkin as far from the front of her mind as she could for the time being. “I hate surprises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, the night is still not over...  
Side note: I finally know how this fic is going to end.
> 
> Also, I made yet another fanvid during my hurricane break cause you know... obsessed.
> 
> Marisa Coulter x Asriel Belacqua - Hard for Me  
https://youtu.be/g28JxtzN16M


	22. The Puzzle Begins to Take Shape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the comments! Y’all give such great feedback and really read into everything. It’s so amazing!

“You could at least give my shoes back,” she groaned, reaching out for the golden heel just barely dangling from the tip of his finger.

Blessedly, since it was after eleven, the street was nearly empty save a few stray night owls and the doorman, an older gentleman, who was doing his best to be discreet enough to not stare at them making a scene.

“Asriel,” she hissed under her breath, casting a reproachful glare at the driver who was holding the door, his gaze snapping away the moment hers burned him where he stood.

“Be free, Marisa,” Asriel teased, eyes alight with mischief. “Let go and enjoy yourself.” He titled his head as though to measure her. “Or are you too uptight and snobby for such leisure activities?”

“You fucking-“ she grumbled under her breath, ignoring the driver’s proffered hand and climbing out of the car herself.

The moment her bare feet touched the ground Asriel grinned like he’d just triumphed over some major deal breaker. “Lyra would be proud.”

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she smoothed out the front of her dress, doing her best to appear put together enough to walk across the lobby of the building without raising any eyebrows. “If this makes the front cover of the gossip column tomorrow, I’ll really bury that heel in your throat.”

After tipping the driver, he turned and took her hand with a chuckle as their daemons led the way. “And what will the headline read? Widow of Coulter caught barefoot and drunk with former lover?” He leaned close as they walked through the front doors. “At least, your panties are still on..._ for now_.”

Practically dragging him to the other side of the lobby, she pressed the lift button three swift times as she glanced around to see who might be watching.

“You know, impatience makes it come slower.”

“You’re a child,” she mused, eyes back on the hand counting down over the double doors.    
  


_ Sixteen. Fifteen. Fourteen. _

“Because I live in the moment and don’t attempt to plan out every detail of my life before it happens?” He rocked on his heels as he followed her gaze. “Sometimes, it’s nice to let life come to you, love; to let go of control.”

“I prefer to know.”

“Think about the most important things in your life and tell me how many of them you actually planned for.”

“That’s-“ At a loss, she groaned and rolled her eyes as the lift dinged and the golden doors slid open for her and Asriel to enter. “Shut up.”

As she relaxed against the back of the lift, she threw him a warning glare when he braced his hands against the wall on either side of her head. “Can you attempt to imagine the things I’m about to do to you?” He leaned in, his hot breath brushing her cheek. “I’m going to take all that control you love so much and have you begging me to keep it.”

Her belly tensed at the thought. However, no response would come as a purse caught the doors before they could close and shunted them back open.

“Ah, Marisa,” Sandra Crawford, the minister of public affairs’ wife, crowed, her eyes wide. “Hello, dear.”

“Mrs Crawford,” she exclaimed, heart thudding as she scrambled to knock Asriel’s hands down and stand straight.

“Don’t the two of you look... nice.” The woman scanned her head to toe, eyes lingering on her feet as Asriel gave a cough to cover his laughter.

“Asriel, this is Sandra Crawford, Minister Ivan Crawford’s wife.”

“Ma’am,” Asriel nodded politely.

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard of you.” The old bat’s face pinched as she scrutinized him. “The _new_ husband.”

Tongue pressed hard to the roof of her mouth, she stared at the doors, willing them to open again. What floor did the Crawford’s live on? Seven? Eight?

“Not so new,” he quipped, his tone signaling a warning that stuck in her throat. “At least, that’s what the former husband would say... if he were here.”

The woman spluttered, adjusting her glasses on her nose as his ribs caught her elbow and he gave another cough.

When the doors slid open for the woman’s floor, she hurried out without so much as a good evening or glance back.

_“Must_ you?” she groaned, slapping his chest and nearly stomping her foot. “It’ll be all over the gossip vines by tomorrow.”

“Serves her right for being a judgmental biddy.”

“Asriel.” Lifting a hand to wipe down her face, she added, “Why can’t you just behave?”

His hands wound around her waist from behind, his answer hot at her neck. “Because you prefer it when I don’t.”

His lips felt like fire on her skin, each little nip setting the nerves running down her back into a frenzy.

When the doors slid open again, she knocked his hands away and padded out, shoving down the urge to stomp away from him, already reaching back to remove her necklace and begin toward the bedroom.

She could hear him behind her, leisurely trailing after her. To think, it’d only been a handful of hours since they’d made the same tracks. Her fleeing and him following. The tension from earlier had diminished, however, replaced with a promise of him in her bed, warm and firm against her.

By the time she reached her door, her jewelry was in her hand and he was nearly at her back, but caught the door to his face when she slammed it, the thud against the wood drawing a satisfied smirk to her lips as she let the jewels fall to the table beside the door.

When it opened again, she was facing it, drawing her dress over her shoulder, allowing it to fall down her arms, past her hips, to the floor.

The way his eyes followed the material, shifting from annoyance to abject want, stirred the simmering fire in her belly. If he wanted to play games, she’d be the one to set the parameters. At least, that’s what she told herself.

His first step brought her chin up with a little dare. The second saw one heel hit the floor and the third, the other.

“My monkey,” he mused, tilting his head to the side with a little tut tut sound. “My brilliant, manipulative, beautiful, deceitful, intoxicating monkey.”

By his fourth step, she felt like prey and by his fifth, she found herself being roughly hauled forward and hoisted to slam against the door  _hard_, breath aggressively stolen from her lungs as his kiss damned any retort she may have formed, unrelenting and bruising as he kept her pinned without chance of escape... not that escape was anywhere on her mind.

The door creaked with the weight being forced against it, the pressure between him and it suffocating as his hands began to roam, up and down her sides, over her hips, and under her thighs, tugging at her like he was trying to fuse their flesh together into one, seamless unit.

The longer the firmness of his body molded into hers, the more pleasant and familiar it became; reassuring her of his place, of where he belonged, and how long it had been since he’d been home, _inside_ her.

With a contented sigh, she relaxed and parted her lips, permitting his wandering tongue entrance as it drew along the seam; insistent, demanding. She swallowed the groan that rushed up his throat as the flexing muscle touched hers, coiling and darting as she turned her head to better welcome him.

Hands smoothing over his shoulders, she took his head in her hands, nails scraping at his scalp to drown him further within her as his large palm laid over her thigh, hitching it up higher to better accommodate him in the cradle of her hips.

The path he then began burning down her neck felt like she imagined a forest floor might look after a blaze had taken it, digging into the earth and scraping out every ounce of life as his teeth were now doing along her collar bone, his tongue delving deep, making a return path to lave it like a sweet rain in the aftermath.

The time it would have taken to unbutton his shirt would have been a waste, she thought, as her fingers slipped through the holes, momentarily brushing his heated skin before she jerked her hands from each other, sending buttons scattering between them.

_Finally_.

What felt like miles of beautiful, hard flesh practically leapt to her touch as the black material was shoved down his arms, catching at the elbow.

“We can add destructive to the list as well,” he chuckled, the hand in her hair abruptly snapping her head as far back as it would bend as he murmured beneath her chin. “I’ll have to punish you for that.”

“The only description I care about is satisfied,” she moaned, wiggling to garner a little room to move against him as her hands dipped below the waistband of his pants, nails digging into the supple flesh of his ass with the intent to draw his hips harder against hers.

“Mmm.” His heavy pants tickled her ear as he grasped her thigh and secured it over his hip again, swiveling into her and illiciting a heady moan to bubble forth as she frowned in the friction she’d been craving. “Eager and horny, too.”

“Do you plan on doing that burrowing any time soon?” She arched an eyebrow. “I do believe you’re meant to be at my beck and call.”

His laughter reverberated through both of them as he murmured into her skin again, this time as he swiped a thumb over her nipple, cupping her breast firmly. “Yes, ma’am.” Hands smoothing down her sides, his lips curved as he finally let his shirt fall away with the added promise, “After.”

The question was on the tip of her tongue before his intent dawned upon her and she began nodding, encouraging even.

Burrowing could wait until the appetizer was finished.

His lips momentarily replaced his hand at her breast, a short, sweet suckle all she received, before venturing further south, pausing at each rib, ghosting his lips along the slopes of them, murmuring to each as if they had their own special names. “Delectable. Cunning. Sensuous. Bewitching.”

By the time he was knelt before her, like her own personal courtesan, or addict if they were being honest, she was practically panting, each rib he’d named rising and falling as though to his will. Then, his breath was against her thigh and he was whispering again, speaking to her skin like it was a treasured artifact. “Unequaled.” His fingers held the back of her leg at the juncture connecting to her ass as he switched to the other. “Magnetic.”

The throb in her sex was painful, every nerve begging to be individualized, to be cared for as if they were the center of his world, painting her face in what she knew to be angry, red blotches as she suppressed the urge to yank his head up, instead biting her lip so hard she felt she’d soon have the scarlet, metallic flavor swarming her tastebuds.

“Scintillating,” he went on, dragging his lips to the crux of her thighs, his deceptively innocent eyes drifting to look upon her heated ones as he set about gliding a single, lithe digit down the crease of her ass, digging into the flimsy silk of her underwear, and curling through her swollen folds with just enough pressure to sink within her opening, dewy and parted, garnering a solitary gasp as she fumbled to grip the handle of the door, the metal strangely cool in the suddenly all too hot room. “Hypnotic.”

His teeth glinted like a wolf beneath a full moon, his prey unguarded, trapped, and defenseless as its impending fate crept around it. Violence threatened to rip from her chest as she impatiently cantered her hips down and forward, pressing and deliberate, with the intent to have him devour the pitiful creature she’d become.

“Impatient.”

The moist, hot air penetrating her underwear was too much, his lips remaining just out of touch, anticipating her as he so often did, eyes dancing with mirth as he kissed her left thigh again, blazing a path her underwear followed as he hooked and tugged the hinderance away.

The blue of his iris carried like a current on its return voyage, a connection binding them as his hand smoothed along the curves of her body, ankles to knees to thighs to backside, where he settled with a brush of his nose to her sex, just the tip breaking the slit, opening her like a flower peeking at the sunlight.

No longer able to stand it, she roughly wove a set of fingers through his soft hair, gripping the crown of his head in a punishing grip.

_“Ready,”_ she breathed, his flowing depths lifting to meet her glacial landslide, any mock innocence melting with his smug gaze.

Never breaking the link, he smoothed a hand down her left thigh, hooking her knee, and drawing it over his shoulder. The angle parted her further, gracing the air with her aroused mixture of greedy lust, the rush of cool air contracting her muscles as her entire body tingled, nipples painfully reaching and the tiny hairs on her skin at attention.

The puff of air he set loose on her exposed flesh sent another ripple coursing up her belly, heaving over her breasts, and into her mouth as she sucked it down her throat. The door handle made a sound of protest as she weighed down on it, almost fleeing her lover before he’d even began.

“Furious,” he murmured, a single kiss of his lips, firm and chaste all at once, coming away glistening as they curved again, making her sex clench around nothing, desperate to be full. “Exquisite.”

“Asriel,” she groaned, nails biting into his scalp to no end.

Naked, vulnerable, and desperate, his eyes took her in, that glint intensifying. He knew he had under his thumb.

_ “Mine.” _

“Yes,” she breathed, turning her head and angling down. “Yours.”

The first pass of his tongue felt like ice passing over flesh, sparking a wave of goosebumps that had her wheezing. The second contained enough pressure to pop the lid of a jar. By the fifth, her heel was digging into his back, urging him on as her body arched off the cool surface of the door.

The nail of his finger scratched her perineum on its decent forward before delving mercifully deep within her greedy, murky depths as his tongue made a pass high enough to have her hand jerking to her breast as he thrust a second finger without warning, finally filling her with enough to grab hold of.

Little mewling sounds filled the room to join the lapping, suckling noises as he grunted and hummed into her folds like he was eating something pristinely delicious, adjusting the pressure of his mouth to match the depth of his fingers.

  
  


The way he kissed her with his whole mouth had her rocking her hips, desperate for him to fuck her with his entire face to make that tickle in her belly abate.

Then, his true intentions came to light as the fingers buried inside her core vacated their dark space in exchange for another opening farther back, a single digit worming it’s way past the ring of muscles, inviting every other muscle in her body to tense in unison.

By the time he was two knuckles deep, she felt a tear trickle down her cheek that was punctuated by him curling and rubbing against the tight walls of her canal, retracting just enough to push back in, filling the emptiness he’d left behind.

“Oh, yes” she whimpered, bottom lip caught between her teeth, head tossed back as the ceiling seemed to drift like clouds. “That.”

Twisting a nipple between her fingers, she lifted her gaze to Oz, who was on his back, sprawled eagle, seemingly completely incapacitated as Stel leisurely nibbled and licked at his neck.

Just when she felt herself adjusting to his rhythm, his finger leisurely teasing as he suckled at her, he clamped around her clit, finally touching the aching nerves, sending her splintering unsuspectingly over the edge into an abyss of bright colors striking her lids as her breathing stalled and the hand at her breast flung to the door, grasping at the wood like a raft in the raging chaos, the length of her body absorbing the singular pulse of her heartbeat.

Asriel grunted, his other hand laying over hers on the door, forcing it to his head and threading her fingers through his hair. Eyes cracking open, she found him staring up at her as best he could, eyes drinking her in as deeply as his mouth, his breathing labored as he sucked and twirled his tongue around her.

“Yours. Yours.” The words tumbled from her bruised lips like a torrent of pleas, thighs quaking as they framed his face and toes curling against his back, wishing he could stay there forever. “Always yours.”

The spasms slowed to match his kisses as he eased the drying digit from her backside, leaving her feeling empty and desolate without him there to fill her.

“You’re far too skilled at that,” she murmured breathlessly as he found his feet, his hands weaving through her ruined curls and his mouth cutting off any further responses.

The metallic, velvety taste and smell of herself drew another satisfactory sigh up her throat as she turned her head to better take it from him, tongue sweeping his mouth, coaxing his with a few turns, and returning home only to be followed.

“Conceited,” he chuckled, releasing her mouth with a pop, his thumb swiping at her lips.

“I like the way I taste on you,” she murmured, batting her lashes at him.

A growl filled the room as he hoisted her legs up and around his hips, his quick pace as he carried her across the room drawing a laugh as he paused at the end of the bed and tossed her down.

The soft mattress rejected her only once as she bounced, catching herself and pushing her sweaty hair from her face.

“Stay,” he grunted with a pointer finger to her forehead, the little pressure distributed lulling her head back.

“Or what?” With a click of her tongue, she rested back on her elbows, observing her lover.

The hard planes of his chest called her eyes, the way they pulsed and throbbed, the tight lines of his abdomen and the curve of his hips creating an itch to touch as she bit her lip, eyes following the coarse hair that sparsely trailed and disappeared below her visibility.

However, the sound of his belt slipping through the loops of his pants distracted her as he swiftly removed and dropped it to the floor, allowing his hands to now make quick work of the button and zipper.

Eyes flickering to his, all stormy and clouded over with his dark intentions, she smiled and reached out, eyes never leaving his as she knocked his hands away and parted the material, tugging down just enough forthe prize to unfurl into her hand.

One of his knees settled on the bed, his hands caressing her brow and brushing her hair as she leaned forward and took him deep without any warning or hesitation, hollowing out her cheeks as the stiff organ slid over her tongue.

Asriel’s stuttered moan would have embarrassed him if she thought he was still forming any thoughts other than one word syllables, his hands burying in her as he doubled over her, giving a small thrust into her mouth.

“No,” he grunted, tightening his hold and jerking her head back, the sting drawing a gasp as she was pulled off him with a slurp and shoved back to the bed.

Resting back on her elbows again, she smirked at his hunched posture, dragging a thumb over her bottom lip to clear the string of saliva that had snapped.

“Mine.” She sucked the digit, eyes steady on his. “All mine.”

There was a flinch in his jaw that preceded a growl as he latched onto her knees and shoved them toward her, folding them over his arms as he invaded her in one, searing thrust.

“_Oh_.” Her body arched as her head fell back, eyes fluttering as he seated himself fully within her, the sudden pressure of being so  _full_ leaving her to blindly reach out, fingers twisting in his thick hair.

The position gave her little maneuverability, hands falling to clutch his shoulders for support, the smirk giving way to a laugh as she rolled her hips to meet his brutish movement.

“So, it’s going to be this kind of fuck?”

“Because you’re a stubborn temptress who always has to be in control,” he growled, one large hand splaying under her ass as he wasted no time setting an unforgivably, punishing pace that had her mouth falling open as she arched into him, raspy breaths joining his grunts.

The air became saturated with their flesh, the sounds of him abandoning and reclaiming her over and over despite her body’s every attempt to hold him deep.

Each breath became a haze as Asriel drove into her, his forehead, heavy and heated, tilting to press to hers, his gaze set between them where their bodies joined. He looked so serious, intent and deeply concentrated, like he was burning each movement into his brain. It made her wonder exactly what he was thinking, if he was thinking at all because in reality he looked like he was a thousand miles away.

When she focused on his eyes, she found them burning like the hottest star in the sky, drawing her mouth open as words once again shattered the sound of the sex filling the room. “I love you.”

Movements faltering for a few heartbeats, his weight dropped entirely on her and his eyes held hers as he dotingly brushed his fingers against her cheek, light like a feather, like a treasure.

“I love you, too,” he breathed, warm breath washing her face.

She withdrew her hands from his shoulders and cupped his cheeks, gently bringing his mouth to her own. The moment their tongues met, he moaned into her mouth, inciting her walls to draw tight around him, milking him for more.

“Marisa,” he grunted, untangling from her left leg, letting it fall away as he pressed a hand to the bed, mouth breaking from hers as he cantered his hips forward a few times, drawing out and gliding back in, slow and deliberate while he kept her gaze, watching each reaction she gave over to him.

It was an awkward angle, one she couldn’t really do much with other than touch him, her hands smoothing down his chest, absorbing the way his muscles flexed under her fingertips, every re-entry rocking them both further up the bed until he was forced to release her other leg, freeing her to wrap around him as he tugged her back down toward the edge of the mattress.

The duvet crumpled beneath his fingers as he held himself over her, his lips wrapping around a nipple, tongue twirling around the stiff protrusion before pulling back and releasing a soft puff of air, sending a shiver across her side as the spit cooled. Then, his mouth fell again, teeth clamping tight as one hand snaked to her mound, pinching at her clit.

“Fuck,” she hissed, the skin at his biceps giving beneath her nails as her heels dug into the back of his thighs and her walls contracted around him, holding him tight as her body flushed with another orgasm rocking her.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum for me,” he murmured, resting a hand on the bed as he lifted her by the neck with the other, hips snapping into her spasming muscles, driving her deeper into the mattress as he absorbed every staggered breath she gave, his mouth just over hers. “My own fucking work of art.”

Every upward thrust brought a gasp that drew his eyes to her lips, her knuckles strained white in the soft material beneath her as his hands smoothed over her ass to her hips where he gripped and jerked her to the end of the bed again, his grunts accompanying each hard slap of his skin to hers.

A hand sunk into her hair, snapping her head back, catching a gasp in her throat as the abrupt jerk sent a painful flurry of spasms down her neck, while the other held her hips down, forcing her spine to curve. Then, she felt his hot breath at her ear and his voice raspy and deep as the sweat on the tips of his hair rained down on her cheek. “Who’s in control, love? Who do you belong to?”

The question didn’t really register anywhere but on the surface, her ability to comprehend faulty as he surged into her ruthlessly, but holding deeper and longer, the brush of her straining nipples against the hard planes of his chest sending her into complete distraction.

“You.” The tips of her fingers felt numb as they grazed his damp face, his cock twitching at her answer as her ankles locked together around his ass. “Harder. Please.”

Abruptly released to plummet back to the bed, her body squirmed, head twisting every which was as he strained to reach a depth so exquisite, she could lay no name to it. All she could do was hold on as the fringes of another climax licked from her belly to her back, creeping up her chest and down her thighs, spreading out and being washed further along the shore of her body with every wave he cast into her. 

Then, she crashed, hands snapping to his wrists, the waves receding back out to meet him, pulsing over the solid length of his cock, wearing it down until he broke with a ragged grunt, hips slamming into her, giving over the pearly seed she’d been acing for all night.

Fingers still clutching at his wrists, she moaned, frantically rocking into him, milking the remnants still pouring into her, her eyes locked on his nearly pained expression until he finally collapsed over her, groaning as the residual affects of his orgasm settled.

Still buried inside her, he pulled her matted hair to one side as his mouth found purchase at her neck where he began bathing her with soft, featherlight kisses, moving out over her shoulder down her arm to her side then back up.

“Monkey,” he whispered, worming an arm beneath her, one hand splaying over her back as the other tangled in her hair, his cheek hot and damp against her neck as he retracted his cock, the hiss she released at the friction making him tense and lift his head to kiss her, easing her through the emptiness that invaded her at his departure. “My sweet monkey.”

The hand in her hair twisted as he kissed her open mouthed, swallowing her heavy breaths as she wrapped her arms around him, legs smoothing along his teasingly as she cradled him.

  
  
He was heavy on her, his weight suffocating, but not uncomfortably so.  


As they lay there, their bodies basically fused together with the sheen of sweat between them, the fog of sex began to lift and conscious thought return. Her eyes landed on the reflection of them in the mirror across the room.

They looked perfect to the naked eye, her fitting just so under him, his arms holding her almost protectively. The smell of two satisfied lovers wafted around them and she both heard and felt him suck it in, hold it, and let it out over her skin, making her smile as she ran her fingers over his shoulders, tracing the nail prints there.

However, the tension that should have been long gone from her body returned as his next words tumbled from his lips. “You were going to marry him.”

Oz lifted his head, peering over Stel’s back, his dark eyes watchful of her startled response.

“What?”

“He’s not bound to the Magisterium while still having all the power you’d have needed to continue funneling your research,” he concluded on his own, lifting to rest on his elbows over her. “You were going to marry him.”

The urge to defend herself swelled in her chest and worked its way to her mouth as she tried to adjust to the shift in his mood. “I-“ 

“No lies.”

The defense crumbled before it ever gained momentum. Apparently, this was a conversation they were now going to have. “Alright. Yes, I was going to marry him.”

It felt like swallowing glass to admit the truth.

“And then even after you discovered your pregnancy, you still debated marrying him, didn’t you?” he pressed on, studying her again. “Plotted how to pass Lynx off as his.”

She wished she could move, garner some distance. Instead, she dropped her gaze and whispered, “Lynx is yours, Asriel.”

“I know he is,” he quipped, tone harder. “You wouldn’t have married me if he wasn’t. There was no profit to be made off me and you’re nothing if not someone to make a grab for a step up. You’d have married your Count and lived out the rest of your power hungry life picking off members of the royal family.”

“There would have been nine in the way,” she offered lightly. “Too many to pick off.”

When he didn’t join in her amusement, shelaid a hand to his chest, fingering a scar that ran over his collarbone. “Yes, I thought about marrying him. I also thought about keeping you, too.”

That earned a low chuckle. “Selfish wench.”

“Would you have had another affair with me?” she asked, testing the waters to see just what the conversation was.

His head lulled to the side. “How close did it come to that? Your decision between lying and marrying him or telling the truth and marrying me?”

This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have. It was too spontaneous. He’d not even given a sign it was coming... which, she thought, was probably why he’d done it this way. When she didn’t answer immediately, he concluded, “That close, huh?”

Frustration began to bubble in her veins. “I could have rubbed elbows with some of the most powerful people in the world and, instead, I-“ She broke off and met his stormy eyes again with a sarcastic laugh. “I chose you, a man with a horrendous reputation and one threadbare suit to his name.”

He made a grunt. 

“_Stop it_,” she hissed, fingers on his jaw in a flash, white at the tips from the pressure. “You are such an arrogant _asshole_. You’re here because I love you. Yes, I... I thought about passing Lynx off as his,  _plotted it even_, but I didn’t _do_ it. When faced with the choice between that.. that pompous clown and you...” She let him go and wilted under him, all the fight drained. “Asriel... for God’s sake, we just made love. This is a _ridiculous_ conversation.”

The ice in his gaze thawed, the dark circles around his eyes appearing thicker. “I’m sorry, I’m just... exhausted.”

“That’s not an excuse,” she murmured, brushing the corner of his eye. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“I never sleep well without you.”

Unable to help smiling at his nearly pitiful little admission, she pushed him back and wiggled her way up the bed before crooking a finger at him. “Then, come here and burrow and cease with your baseless inquiries.”

He conceded to her command, following to wrap around her, his head doing as she suggested and burrowing into her neck. “Forgive me,” he murmured, tracing the angry red marks on her breast. “I was overzealous.”

With an arm curled around his shoulder, she wove her fingers through his hair and began scratching his scalp.

“Just don’t tell my husband,” she playfully replied. “He’s a jealous man.”

It didn’t take long at all for his breathing to even out and the heavy weight of him to relax, the soft breaths at her neck steady.

However, the longer she laid there, the more her thoughts veered from gratefulness at his presence to resentment at his doubts, reminding her of the doubts _she_ had.

Gently as she could, she eased from his arms and out of the bed, softly padding across the room to slip into a robe before accepting the napkin from Oz, who’d gone ahead and plucked it from Asriel’s discarded coat, never breaking stride as she left the room and headed for her study.

Holding out her hand, she felt the pen slide into it as Oz hopped to her side of the desk as she began scratching the numbers onto a piece of clean paper.

“Get the map,” she murmured, working her way down the list of coordinates.

“He’s a light sleeper,” Oz warned, opening the atlas. “He’ll notice.”

“Take it back,” she replied, shoving the napkin across the desk before throwing a warning glare at him. “_Quietly_.”

Oz grumbled as he scurried from the room, leaving her with the coordinates she began marking on the map.

“What are you doing, Asriel?” she murmured, tracing her fingers to connect another.

The locations seemed to be scattered across the continent. Each one seemed to be different from the next until she came to the sixth.

The Station.

Dropping the pen, she stood straighter, staring at the location, her heart hammering. Asriel knew the location. There was no need for it to be written down.

“It wasn’t in his hand, remember?” Oz hissed upon his return, jumping to the desk. “Someone _else_ knows.”

“The man,” she murmured. “With the black heron.”

“Marisa?”

Nearly jumping out of her skin, she slammed the atlas shut and shoved it toward Oz, who shuffled across the room to replace it as she hurried toward the door, pausing just as she reached it to suck in a deep breath and sort her face into one of sleepiness.

He and Stel were headed in the opposite direction down the hallway, clothed in nothing but the dim lights along the walls.

“Asriel?”

He spun, his expression clouded over with a frown.

“Why are you up, love?” she asked, casting the question before he could as she deliberately left the door open to welcome his inspection if he chose it. “You need rest.”

His eyes fell to Oz, who’d found her side again. “I was-“ He gestured to her study. “What are you doing?”

Closing the distance between them, she drew a raspiness to her voice. “I was thirsty and then I remembered I had an appointment tomorrow and wanted to check the time.”

By the time she was within touching distance, he’d sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the drowsiness dragging his shoulders down.

“It’s late,” she murmured, taking his hand in hers. “Come back to bed.”

A low grunt that came off more grouchy than not made her chuckle as she led him back to their bed. “You really can’t sleep without me, can you?”

He didn’t waste any time falling back into the bed, leaving her to disrobe and cover them both with the sheets while she settled back down.

He practically purred as he dragged her to the center of the bed where he resumed the place he’d had earlier, all the air leaving his chest and washing over her neck.

“Sleep,” she whispered, running her fingers over his back. “I’ve got you, now.”

An incoherent murmur that sounded something akin to her name drifted to her ears and then he was still again.

Eyes on the ceiling, she tried to keep her heart steady for fear that the rapid thumping would wake him back up.

A puzzle began to form, some pieces fuzzy and others missing.

There were the late night meetings with Melinda Trout, the wife of a high ranking Magisterium official.

He was a suspected member of a group of outliers who wanted to see the Magisterium collapse.

His research, supposedly out of Jordan College, had taken him unexpectedly away for weeks at a time over the last few months; research, that she knew nothing about. When he wasn’t gone, he was at the College, meeting with people whose names he never offered.

Lastly, there was a dozen or so coordinates given to him by a man he seemed to dislike, someone upon reflection she realized he’d sidestepped explaining when asked about. One set of the coordinates was that of her own facility. It wasn’t that great of a leap to assume the rest were of other facilities, judging by their locations.

At the end of the bed, she could feel Oz’s eyes boring into them and actually found herself wishing she could talk to him for the first time, to hear his thoughts.

Still, she knew what he would ask.

_Who’s in control, now?_


	23. Like Mother Like Daughter... Like Granddaughter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are blindingly obvious errors, my excuse is that I posted this at 2am with my eyes half crossed. I’ll fix them later lol.

“We should rest our mind.” Oz flicked at the edges of a stack of papers with his little black nails. “We’ve been at it for hours.”

A soft groan fell from her as she lost her place amidst the names littering the spreadsheet she’d been staring at for over twenty minutes, the puzzle that was her husband’s business she’d been attempting to decipher for a week now infuriating her.

“Not until I understand,” she replied sharply, flipping to another sheet full of notes while attempting not to scrunch them up in a ball out of pure frustration.

Each coordinate had indeed led to a facility ran under the table by the Magisterium as far as Boreal had been able to find. Convincing him that she’d been looking into other projects had been met with blatant skepticism, but he’d agreed to look into the matter none the less. What research was being conducted? Who was conducting it? Why would Asriel care? Was it competition? Or something more duplicitous? None of it made sense.

Now, she was left to wonder what exactly Asriel was up to and how long he’d been up to it. When her theories began to hit too close to home, she found herself devolving into mild panic attacks, just knowing he’d be found out soon enough especially with Boreal already on his tracks as far as his rogue acquaintances went. When her thoughts lingered on his being caught for too long, her mood tended to sour and she was left with little patience for anyone.

For the last few days, she’d been having a harder time of covering up her frustration, something her husband had caught onto and had been making inquiries about. She’d chalked it up to paperwork and a lack of finesse from her scientists at The Station, but she knew he was beginning to see through it.

“Someone’s coming,” Oz informed, moving toward the edge of the desk and leering at the door as though he could see right through it.

Without so much as a knock, the door flung open and a blur of white swooped through the opening followed quickly by the absolute last person she wanted to see.

As the owl lighted on the back of the chair across from her, Marcel’s lips lifted, his teeth practically glinting as he confidently strode toward her, a pretentiousness in his step she wanted to cut out from under him already. He looked more like he was walking into a board meeting than greeting his closest relative, his blue suit perfectly tailored to fit him like a second skin.

“Sister.”

“What are you doing here?” she snapped, briskly standing from her seat and circling to stop him from sitting with a hand held up. “You can’t just barge into my hou-“

“Sorry to impose, but I have a bit of business to share.” 

“I have enough business,” she replied with a withering glare, closing the folder on her desk before he could nose around enough to see what she was working on. “I have no interest in yours.”

A sly smirk crept to his lips. “Yes, chasing your bastard around and spreading your legs is hard work, I’m sure.”

The smirk was wiped away by her hand, the sting radiating up her arm as she drew it back to herself.

“Sorry,” she quipped, delightfully observing as he ran a hand over his dark hair to smooth it back down. “I thought I saw some shit on your face, but apparently you just have that look about you.”

Oz circled behind her, eyeing the owl, which was still perched, her golden eyes focused on them.

“Well, now that we’re past our normal pleasantries,” he scoffed, pulling an envelope from within his jacket. “What I came for.”

She accepted the envelope with mild hesitation, surprised he actually did come for something else besides his tactless comments, and turned to her desk to set it down and open it.

“I take it your ball and chain isn’t here?” Marcel remarked from behind her.

“If he were, you’d already be knocked on your ass again.” She removed the contents and set them down to sort through. “What is this?”

There were mostly papers, some pictures. Hardly anything she cared to rifle through.

“Recognize anything?”

“What would I-?” It felt like she’d been stabbed through the chest as she stared at the signatures at the bottom of each page. Then, she came up short when she came to a particular document.

Knowing Marcel was watching her, she schooled her face to remain impassive, but if he were paying close enough attention, he’d notice her hands were trembling.

“Where did you get these?” she snapped, turning back to him.

“This man...” Marcel lifted the papers and slid a picture from beneath them before angling it toward her. “They were in his apartment when we arrested him.”

The man with the black heron daemon.

“You recognize him?”

Eyes jerking up to her brother’s, she did her best to control her face as the levers and wheels in her brain began to shift and turn.

“I don’t know,” she lied, reaching for the picture and studying it. “He seems familiar, but...” She lifted her eyes again, forcing confusion to the forefront. “Who is he?”

“Arnold Craft. He’s a scientist within our ranks.”

“He’s Magisterium?” Her surprise at that fact couldn’t be contained. For all her wondering about the man, his being a member of her own organization hadn’t been anywhere on her radar. “Why was he arrested?”

Marcel sighed and took a seat, crossing his legs as he shrugged. “It was unexpected, an accident really. He was caught with the daughter-in-law of a high ranking official. Honestly, we thought they were having an affair and they certainly played it as such when caught, but as it turns out, they were passing information. Upon searching his apartment, we found those in his desk.”

Digesting that information went faster than she’d initially digested the things before. “Is this all? Just these documents?”

“Why would he be investigating _you,_ Marisa?” Marcel asked, eyes ever watchful. “Your research is radical, but it hardly should draw the interest of a scientist outside the realm of theology or the daughter-in-law of a minister.”

“I-“ She really didn’t know the answer to that.

“To answer your question, there were other facilities indicated in his notes. Apparently, he’s been looking into every major benefactor of Magisterium aided research. These facilities’ locations came from the daughter-in-law of the Minister of Finance, who after a bit of _gentle_ persuasion... admitted she was just a mole spying on her father-in-laws dealings with only Craft for a contact.”

There was the click. Asriel was pilfering her research for this man.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he has more information regarding your research than any other person in his files, indicating a source close to you must be feeding him directly and often.”

It felt like her airway was closing off.

“You think someone on my staff-“

“I think you and I both know who’s feeding him information.” Marcel tilted his head, his brow lifting. “It’s quite obvious, don’t you think?”

Forcing a laugh, she shook her head and set the papers down so she could cross her arms and lean against her desk under the guise of appearing unaffected by all this new information. “You never stop, do you?”

“How does he feel about your research?”

“He’s indifferent,” she replied evenly. “As are most men when it comes to female led research.”

Marcel gave nothing of his thoughts away. “And you? Are you still pretending you’re spying on him? Where has he been traveling? Where does he spend his time? With _whom_ does he spend his time?”

Shrugging her shoulders, she whirled a hand between them. “I take it you’re asking me as Magisterium and not a concerned brother?”

”We’re all family under the Authority, sister.”

  
What she wouldn’t give to be allowed to torture him; slice a nail from his forefinger, stick a needle in his eye. “He spends the majority of his day at Jordan College, but as any good scholar wouldn’t, he doesn’t share his research.”

“So, you don’t actually know anything about him or what he’s doing.”

The tone with which he said it rankled her nerves. Leveling him with an expression of contempt, she replied, “Well, I know how to chase his bastard and spread my legs for him.”

Marcel rolled his eyes and sat forward as he began to unravel enough to prod, his daemon fluttering her wings as a sound of protest left her. “Marisa, you may not like it, but these are all questions that will be asked should we find evidence of his involvement.”

”Then, I suppose you had better get to it.”

Her brother and her diverged in most areas, however, patience for beating around the bush wasn’t one of them.

”What about your children?” he pressed as his daemon whispered in his ear, no doubt feeding him as she often did. “I suppose you’re content to allow them to grow up under the stink of having a father thrown in prison.”

”How sweet of you to be such a concerned uncle, Marcel,” she mocked. Then, she tapped her chin. “Have you even met Lynx?”

He slapped his hand against the chair as he abruptly stood. “Marisa-“

  
“Ma’am?”

Thorold’s voice carried through the door, prompting a bite of barely concealed fury from tumbling out of her. “Come in.”

His appearance did nothing to settle her teeming rage. “I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed,” she reminded dismissively

“Yes, ma’am,” he assured, the hesitancy in his tone having her grinding her teeth. “But I’m afraid Maggie Costa has brought Ms. Lyra home and is insisting upon seeing Lord Asriel.”

“What?” she asked, brow furrowing as she snapped her eyes to Thorold once more, sure she’d misunderstood. “Lyra is meant to be studying in her room. She has an exam in the morning.”

Thorold gave a small lift of his brow as if to silently signal his amusement that she actually thought Lyra had quietly remained in her room for hours.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed away from her desk and set off toward him, disregarding Marcel’s curious gaze as she attempted to keep from stomping across the room.

”This conversation is important, Marisa.”

Not concerning herself with Marcel, she directed her attention to Thorold, “Where is Asriel?”

“Errands, ma’am.”

“Errands?” she repeated as she brushed past Thorold before flippantly adding, “And I suppose they weren’t errands someone else could care for?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Oh, I’m sure he didn’t.”

Knowing she’d pull no further information from the manservant whose first loyalty was always to Asriel, she began mentally preparing herself for whatever Lyra had done, trading one problematic Belacqua for the other.

_“Mama!” Lyra squealed the moment she stepped from the car, ignoring the offered hand of the driver in order to be ready for her daughter’s inelegant and clumsily rushed embrace._

_“My goodness,” she exclaimed, hugging Lyra back as tightly as she was being squeezed. “It’s only been a week.”_

_”It felt longer.” Lyra pulled back only enough to meet her gaze with a mildly amusing seriousness as she lowered her voice. “She’s worse than you are about studying.”_

_Briefly lifting her eyes to see Madeline waiting at the door with Lynx squirming in her arms, she laughed and tucked Lyra’s hair over her ears and whispered back, “Does that mean you’ll set aside further complaints with me?”_

_”I promise.”_

_”No love for your father, is that how it is?”_

_Asriel’s playful tone was like a magnet with an opposite pole as Lyra suddenly leapt away from her as though repelled._

_”Father!”_

_Asriel caught her squealing form only to set her right back down and tap her nose. “We have a surprise for you.”  
_

_“A surprise? Really?”_

_Circling the car to stand by her husband, she observed as the driver opened the front, passenger door. Lyra’s next squeal was nothing in comparison to the one she’d provided them._

_”Roger!”_

_The boy tumbled from the car into Lyra’s arms where she proceeded to seemingly squeeze the life out of him as they spun in circles, giggling and jabbering at each other too quickly for the other to understand. As against the entire idea of their friendship as she was, it brought a smile to even her._

_Blessedly, Asriel had taken over most of the explanation for how they’d found the boy, urging Roger to keep quiet about his abduction and subsequent rescue. He’d made a mission out of it by telling the boy he was still looking for the kidnappers and that Roger was his only lead and needed to remain quiet lest they be alerted and scared away._

_Thankfully, the small shipment of half a dozen children had yet to make it to The Station and it was chalked up to a lucky find by a curious shopkeeper who’s business neighbored the warehouse housing the children. Each had been released and subsequently picked up again, save the one._

_”Come on,” Asriel urged with an arm looped through hers, turning her from the joyful reunion. “I see a boy desperate to escape the ancient perfumes of his grandmother.”_

The foyer was filled with hushed whispers when she rounded the corner. Maggie Costa, a woman she’d had absolutely zero desire to have further dealings with, was gesturing wildly at both Lyra and the boy she recognized as Tony Costa. Both were filthy, hair matted with dirt and rips in their shirts and pants. Tony stood with a darkened eye he was holding his hand against while Lyra was barefoot with her boots sitting beside her on the floor, soggy from what she could only assume was the river.

Lyra for her part was standing, arms folded over one another, as the fair haired woman appeared to be lecturing the two of them, a distasteful look accompanying her daughter’s pouted lips as she glared at the boy. There wasn’t a modicum of regret in her eyes... at least until she made herself known.

“I was told you’ve returned my daughter.”

All three heads snapped toward her, two surprised and the last more distressed than anything else.

“Odd, considering she was meant to be studying in her room.”

As she spoke, her eyes drifted to Lyra, smile pleasant, but firm. Her obstinate child met her gaze dead on with an equal intensity, dropping the momentary worried expression for a more stubborn one. It made a sliver of fury flicker down her spine.

“Mrs. Co- I mean, Lady Belacqua,” Maggie spoke, catching herself with an apologetic smile while wiping her hands down her plaid shirt. As small of a nervous gesture as it was, it was one she took satisfaction in seeing. “I was hoping to speak with Lord Asriel.”

Drawing a tight smile, she replied, “My husband had business. However, I’m sure I can take care of whatever you need regarding  _my_ daughter.”

“Well,” the woman hesitated, sparing Lyra a glance as her hawk observed from the tall table along the wall. “As I’m sure you know, Lyra and my son, Tony, are often at odds.”

“Yes, I do believe I have Tony to thank for the permanent scar along my daughter’s forehead.”

While the boy’s eyes shot open in surprise and his polecat daemon nearly fell off his shoulder, Lyra groaned and dropped her arms.

“He-“ Maggie whipped around to face her son, her unease shifting into one of quick wrath. “Did you do that?”

“It was an accident, ma, I swear!”

“You said you wouldn’t tell,” Lyra all but growled. “You said you’d keep that a _secret.”_

Oz saddled up next to Pan, who was his mirror between Lyra’s feet, little black hands grasping her boots as he bared his teeth at the larger daemon.

Lyra may as well have been baring her teeth too for all the heat her glare was throwing off.

“Why am I in trouble?” Tony burst out, his dark eyes full of panic as his words tumbled out in a rush. “She’s the one who stole our boat and tried to sink it. I was just trying to stop her!”

“What?” she heard herself say as her surprise no doubt showed as her gaze flew to the Costa pair.

“I adore Lyra,” Maggie quickly added, holding her hands out in a gesture to diffuse the situation. “But I’m afraid this latest riff between the children has resulted in some damage to our boat. I was here to ask Lord Asriel for only enough compensation to fix the damage. I don’t want Lyra to be in any trouble as I know my son provoked her, but-.”

“She should be in trouble,” Tony exclaimed, pointing to his swollen eye. “She punched me in the face!”

”I’ll punch you again if you don’t learn to keep your stupid mouth shut,” Lyra growled, swiftly picking up one of her boots and throwing it at the boy who yelled as it connected with his head.

”Ow!”

”Lyra,” she warned, moving forward to catch her daughter’s arm as she seemed about to throttle the boy, her grip tight as she jerked the girl to her side.

  
“Thorold will see to the payment,” she stated evenly, attempting to control her wrath until she had her daughter alone. “If that’s all, Lyra has an exam she should be studying for.”

Maggie’s thanks was lost to her back as she turned, pressed a firm hand to Lyra’s shoulder, and began steering her toward her study.

“I know you’re mad at me, but he-“  Upon entering the study, Lyra’s explanation halted as she came up short at seeing Marcel, abruptly stopping and nearly causing them to collide. “What’s _he_ doing here?”

With a sigh, she steered Lyra further into the room and pointed to the chair across from her desk while she moved to cover the documents. “He was just leaving.”

“I see you’re still here,” Marcel commented, gaze sweeping Lyra scrutinizingly while ignoring her suggestion. “They’ve not yet grown tired of you and rid themselves of you again?”

Lyra squared her shoulders, momentary surprise flickering over her features before she recovered. “No, but I thought my father had rid us of your sniveling nosiness when he made you cry like a little girl.”

  
  


“Lyra,” she bit, pointing to the chair again, having no patience for their bickering. “Sit down.”

Marcel regarded her with amusement as he straightened his jacket.  “You look like a filthy, little, street urchin. I suppose you’ve learned no more here than you did with my mother’s gracious teaching.”

“I’d rather be a street urchin than a pathetic, little worm who’s own mother doesn’t even like him.”

  
  
“How quick of you,” Marcel drawled, eyes darkening. “More and more like your brash father every day, aren’t you?”

“Better than that degenerate you came from.”

Asriel’s voice brought all their heads around as he came through the door, hands in his pockets as he measured each of them with a stony look.

Marcel stood straighter as Stel went straight for the chair his daemon was perched on, a low growl curling out of her powerful jaws causing the owl to adjust her wings as she gripped the chair tighter. “Bold choice of words considering your wife was the favored child of that particular degenerate.” The sneer was followed by her brother’s gaze sliding to her. “So like him.”

  
If she were alone, she’d have slapped him again.

Asriel strode across the room and began pouring himself a drink and she found herself watching him more closely than usual, her heart keeping an unsteady rhythm as the questions began to bubble again.

  
  
“Get out of my house, Marcel,” Asriel carried on with an offhandedness so clear as to suggest Marcel was beneath him to even look at. “Before I have you thrown out.”

“Not that it’d concern you, but I was having a conversation with my sister before we were overwhelmed with Belacqua filth.”

Lyra tilted forward as though to say something, but she reached out and placed a tight hold on her shoulders.

”And we were finished,” she quipped, gesturing toward the door, which she moved toward while Oz stayed beside Lyra, his eyes on Pan’s little wolf form beside her to make sure nothing rash took place. “I’d love to say it’s always a pleasure little brother, but...”

Marcel popped his neck as he followed her, pausing right at her ear as his daemon lighted on his opposite shoulder. “Our conversation isn’t finished... not even close.”

Turning her head to him, she smiled thinly. “I’d not place too many of my cards on it.”

With a quick tightening of his face, he rolled his eyes and exited the room, leaving her with the pair that was surely going to strain the last nerve she held for the day.

“Sit down,” she breathed as she closed the door behind her brother, eyes back on Lyra.

Seeming to remember her predicament, Lyra darted a glance at her father, who was watching them from the window. ”It was an accident, mama, I swear.”

”What’s she done now?”

Not even looking at Asriel, whom had his own lashing coming, she leveled Lyra with disappointment and replied, “Your daughter snuck out of the house again and has been fighting. I do believe I told you not to visit those people anymore.”

“I wasn’t visiting. I stole their boat because Tony Costa said he’d point the Gobblers to Roger again if they came looking.”

Of course, it seemed eve rything in Lyra’s head revolved around that fucking kitchen boy, who was now housed closer than ever with Asriel’s mother; another brilliant idea by her elusive husband.

”You tried to sink their home?” She couldn’t tell if Asriel was amused or angry as he stroked Stel’s head. “I take it your venture wasn’t successful?”  


“No, Ma Costa caught me before I got too far.” Lyra fidgeted with her sleeve while casting Asriel a shy glance. “I was just trying to teach Tony a lesson.”

”Because you are so receptive to lessons?” she scoffed, heels clicking as she neared her barely apologetic child. “I told you there are dangers-“

“I’m not scared of those Gobblers,” Lyra interrupted as Pan shifted to a weasel and scurried away from Oz and up the side of the chair. “They didn’t get me the first time and they won’t next time either.”

  
  
She pressed a finger to her temple and rubbed. The defiance was one thing. She could almost respect Lyra standing her ground. However, it was the blatant disrespect she would not tolerate nor the disregard over her concerns for safety.

  
“Since you can’t seem to be trusted, I don’t want you out of this house without an adult with you,” she reiterated, giving Lyra a look that should have halted further disputes. “It’s not safe and I won’t have you running around getting into fist fights with boys.”

Lyra’s whine touched a nerve at the base of her skull.

“I can’t stay shut up all the time!” Lyra exclaimed. “I’ll just die.” Lyra whirled to Asriel, who was swirling the amber liquid in his glass like he wished to disappear within it. “Father, tell her I can’t. You understand. I’ll suffocate to death.”

Asriel sighed as he set the glass down on the table and shoved his hands back in his pockets while moving closer. “I do understand, but your mother is right. Unless one of us, or Thorold,” he added quickly with a glance to her as if to make sure the extra adult was ok. “Is with you, there’ll be no running off.”

“This isn’t fair!” Lyra stomped her foot. “You can’t keep me locked up.”

“We’re only trying to protect you,” she reasoned, drawing her remaining patience around her even as she felt it getting further away.

“From _what?”_ Lyra went on, fists clenched. “You keep saying that, but you never tell me why. Is it about Roger? Are you afraid the Gobblers will come back for him?”

Gaze briefly meeting Asriel’s, she caught his lifted brow, his signal that this was her problem and he’d have no part in defending her. Of course, he’d do that. He’d love nothing more than her exposure apparently.

“Mama,” Lyra urged, her voice teetering on the line between whining and fuming.

Nails nearly shredding her palms, she returned her attention to her daughter. “You’re a child, Lyra. You’re not entitled to know everything. It should be enough that we’ve given you an order and for you to follow it.”

“I won’t.”

Pan shifted to a primate, his golden fur glinting in the evening light so brilliant and youthful that she could barely stand to look at him.

Oz, however, did and it was enough to have the younger daemon turn to Lyra in worry as he hopped down and tugged at her pants.

“Pardon?” The venom creeping into her tone could not be contained. _“Won’t?”_

The abject rebelliousness radiating off Lyra as she straightened her shoulders and tipped her head up in defiance was enough to have her reaching out and grasping the jutted chin before roughly dragging the girl forward.

Lyra’s defiance only faltered momentarily before she had her slender fingers digging into the wrist at her face, tugging the grip to no end.

  
“I’ve had enough of this attitude, Lyra.”

“And I’ve had enough of _yours.”_

Jaw tight, she took a moment to measure Lyra in an attempt to stop herself from lashing out. From the corner of her eye, she could see Asriel moving closer.

Anger rekindling, her nails dug deep as she warned, “Lyra-“

“You keep secrets and are always telling me what to do,” Lyra growled, eyes filled with tears but burning with anger. “Madame Delamere was right about you. You deflect all the blame-“

A sardonic chuckle slipped from her as she turned her head in warning. “And here I thought you didn’t care for her any longer?”

“At least, she didn’t leave me alone all the time and she’s not a liar.”

“Interesting. That you would accuse me of that,” she commented, grip tightening. “You’ve grown to be quite the little liar yourself. I suggest you find a little gratefulness in that stubborn head of yours.” Lyra stilled as claws dug into fur. “I have given you more than enough room to learn what is acceptable and what isn’t, but it seems you are under the impression that you can ignore me and do whatever you please. I am your mother, Lyra, and you _will_ obey me.”

“Because you always obeyed your mother?” Lyra spat, finally jerking her face away and stumbling back. “I’m not a pet and I’m not a baby, but you wouldn’t know that cause you were never there. Madame Delamare was the one who took care of me and raised me when you didn’t want to and you can’t just try to change who I am because you finally decided to be a mother.” She threw daggers at Asriel. “And you a father.”

  
  


“Both of you need to take a breath,” Asriel began-

”You are an _ungrateful brat,”_ she almost whispered she was so short of breath. “Do you think it’s easy to be _your_ mother? Do you think you’re a better daughter than Sally Manford or Jane Dodd? At least, the two of them know their place and don’t have to be corrected every other minute. _You,_ on the other hand, are an ill mannered, unruly, stubborn little girl who is content to reek havoc on our lives and destroy everything in her path.”

”Well, I'm sorry I don’t have it so easy like them and they don’t have to go to school every day with their classmates whispering about things they have nothing to do with,” Lyra replied through a choked breath. “Like their mother’s being lying whores.”

The remark touched a nerve so deep inside that it burned every cell of her being as it crashed and scratched its way to the surface until she couldn’t contain it any longer. Within the next breath, Oz had leapt forward, taking an unsuspecting Pan between his black hands and slamming him to the floor. The daemon shifted from primate to feline, scratching out as Lyra fell to the floor with a scream.

Hands wound around her shoulders and spun her from Lyra only to be met with nails digging into flesh. “Marisa!”

Asriel’s voice felt like a bucket of ice cold water being tossed over her, washing her with warning, realization, and remorse in quick succession.

The breath she’d been holding escaped in a gasp as she relaxed her fists against his chest and turned her gaze to Lyra who was clutching a pine marten Pan to her breast, soothing him with little shushing noises as she cried like she’d been gut punched.

Oz screeched as he clamored away from the pair as though burned.

“Lyra-“ she started only to be met with such a hateful and betrayed look as to bring her up short of falling to the ground beside the girl to draw her close and beg forgiveness.

Asriel wasn’t so stilled as he let her go and took Lyra by the arm, bringing her to her feet. “Let’s see you.” He smoothed a hand over her shoulder. “You’re fine. Take a deep breath.”

Lyra did just that before releasing it with a sob and falling into Asriel’s arms. He caught and gathered her up, standing to his feet while adjusting his hold to keep her in his arms.  


“It’s alright,” he murmured, swaying with Lyra as he caught her eyes. The pitiful look radiating off him brought a stutter to her own breathing as she shook her head and turned away from them.

Lyra’s sobs got further away as she heard Asriel’s footsteps taking her from the room.

Reaching out to clutch the back of the chair, she let her head fall forward as she tried to control her breathing as the gravity of what she’d done began to collapse upon her.

_”You can’t lock me in here,” she screamed as she lunged toward her mother only to be caught and held back by Steven. “I hate you. I hate you all!”_

_”You will stay in there until you learn to control yourself, Marisa.” Her mother adjusted the bracelet on her arm. “You are far too old for these temper tantrums and I won’t have a daughter who can’t behave in front of guests.”_

_An unholy scream tore from her as she kicked out to no avail._

_Marcel appeared beside their mother, eyes wide as he watched their mother’s daemon dig his teeth into Oz’s little red bird form where they were tussling on the floor between them all._

_”Isa, it hurts, stop!” Oz groaned as his chest panted with the exertion of attempting to escape. “Please!”_

_”Lock her in,” her mother said, guiding Marcel back a step to allow Steven out._

_The man held her back as she bit and clawed at him, his beagle daemon whimpering as it scurried out the door ahead of him so he could close it, trapping her inside._

_She beat against the door, kicking and scratching at it as though it were the woman on the other side._

”We’re not like her,” Oz offered softly, from a few feet away.

”Fuck off,” she growled, spinning and kicking him in the face so hard, she, herself, reeled back and collapsed into the chair, hand over her cheek as she tried to absorb precious oxygen into her depleted lungs.

“We need to go to her,” Oz grunted, picking himself up. “We can be different. We _are_ different.”

”We’re going to lose everything,” she solemnly remarked. “Lyra and...”

”We don’t know it’s him for sure.”

Quickly picking herself up, she moved toward her desk and removed the key from her pocket to unlock the bottom drawer. After rifling through the folders until she found the one she needed, she pulled it out. Everything was there; each document along with her journal.

  
Marcel had brought her copies... but someone _had_ been in this drawer.

”It might not be him,” Oz commented, leaping to the desk to peer down at the files in her lap. “It could be Thorold or anyone else who works here.”

Refiling the documents away into their folders, she placed them in before locking the drawer and replacing the key in her pocket.

  
“Perhaps.”

False hope had never been more precious to her.

* * *

“She’s in her room getting ready for dinner,” he informed as he came through the door. “I suggested she take a bath since all that hard work at destroying personal property got her filthy.”

Rather than acknowledge his return, she continued shuffling papers around in an attempt to appear distracted.

“Thorold said he paid Maggie for the damages,” he went on, coming to a stop across from her. “And that Lyra snuck out through Lynx’s window this time.”

“It seems Thorold has done his job of spying for the day, then,” she snapped, slamming her top drawer shut. Her eyes then swept to him. “Anything else?”

He studied her, hands behind his back as he stood in front of the desk, before asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she groaned, dropping her head to her hands. “Everything.”

“If you want to talk about it-“

“What’s there to talk about?” She lifted her head to throw a pitiful hand to the door. “I fucked up my relationship with Lyra _again. _Marcel is an asshole I can’t ever seem to be rid of.” She kicked her bottom desk drawer. “And I can’t get this fucking thing open to finish my work for the day.”

“I see,” he chuckled lowly as he circled the desk. “Just so you know, you and Lyra will be fine. You fight, say things you don’t mean, and then you make up. I believe that’s the correct formula for a mother and daughter.” He stood beside her and turned her chair to face him as he leaned down. “As for Marcel, your little worm of a brother can go fuck himself straight into oblivion for all you should care.” He brushed her hair back. “And that...” He nodded towards the drawer. “Needs a key.”

“I’d have never guessed,” she bit, rolling her eyes before adding dejectedly, “I can’t find it.”

He stared at her for a moment with an amused smile before shrugging his shoulders. “We can call for a locksmith to open it for you and have a new key made.”

“There’s a folder I need now,” she sighed, turning back to the spreadsheets littering her desktop and resumed filing them into the correct folders.

“Well, if you need it.” He began rifling in his pocket before pulling out a pocket knife and bending to begin slipping it over the slots between the drawer and desk. There was a click and he pulled the drawer open within moments. “I’m not sure what you’d do without me.”

Watching him break into the drawer so easily sealed the foreboding feeling she’d been trying to deny. It was him. He was stealing from her, betraying her to... who knows what sort of people. Had it been this way from the start? Or had she pushed him to such lengths?

His grin faded as he looked to her. “Now, what’s wrong?”

“I-“ She shook her head and pushed down the sting of the betrayal. “I don’t know what I’d do without you either.”

“I assure you,” he chuckled, stepping toward her. “You’ll never have to find out.”

  
“Promise?” she murmured, eyes falling closed as he caressed her cheek.  
  


”Nothing in this world or any other could keep me from you.”

Opening her eyes, she met his deep blue ones which were so full of promise she couldn’t help but wonder how it could ever be false.

Then, he smiled again and she realized he’d been hiding something behind his back as he brought it around and dangled it in front of her. “Your favorite.”

The small, white bag held the little chocolates she loved from one of the shops close to the college.

  
  
“You’ve seemed overly stressed since we returned from London. I hoped it might help.”

Head falling back against the chair, she tiredly smiled and met his eyes again, feeling like she was on the verge of tears at the thoughtful gesture. “I love you.”

“Enough to share some of those?” he teased.

  
  
Her smile was short lived as she couldn’t help but ask, ”Do you think I’m like her?”

“Like who? Lyra?” He laughed as he opened the bag. “One thousand percent, yes.”

”No,” she whispered, twisting the cuff sleeves of his shirt between her fingers. “My mother.”

There was a pause, one that seemed to stretch on and on as she avoided his eyes which she could feel burning into her face like twin suns.

”Look at me.”

Unable to help the flow of tears that suddenly sprung forward, she did as he asked to find him indeed watching her in concern.

”Not even a little.”

”But you don’t know,” she protested, now gripping his wrists. “It was the same. She used to... attack me like that. Her daemon would hold me down until I couldn’t breathe or... until I was too weak to fight him off any longer. She would lock me up, Asriel, and I just-“

”Marisa,” he pressed roughly, cupping her cheeks with both hands now. “I won’t have this conversation. It’s not worth the time or words it would take to convince you.” His eyes softened then and his lips caressed her forehead. “But I do wish you would tell me what’s going on. We always have problems with Lyra and you always handle it well.” He pulled back and tilted her head to his gaze once more. “Something besides Marcel has you upset enough to lash out this way. It’s had you upset for days.”

Unable to take his studying gaze, she nodded and sighed, “I’m not-” She swallowed and looked to him again, forcing her nerves down. “Can we talk about it later?”

His eyes danced over her face and she could see more questions stirring than he’d had moments ago; questions she wasn’t ready to face much less answer.

Reaching out, she stole a chocolate from the bag and slipped it in her mouth, the chocolate practically melting on her tongue.

”Mari-“

Tilting forward, she kissed him, threading her fingers in the hair at his neck, pulling him deep into her mouth to share just as he’d asked. He couldn’t ask questions if she distracted him, _deflected. _Sex had always worked before. It would save her now, too.

His surprised moan was strangled between them as she hooked a leg around his, causing him to stumble into the chair, his hands clumsily reaching out to catch the arm rests to keep from falling completely on top of her.

”Marisa,” he mumbled after pulling back a little to catch his breath which was fanning her face in shallow waves. “I thought you were upset.”

”I am,” she replied, drawing him back down as her hand slipped between them to stroke the front of his slacks. “But you could make me feel better.”

The moment her tongue touched his, she felt his resolve dissolve around her as he took control and explored her mouth, no doubt chasing the lingering chocolate coating it as he swiped his tongue around hers before brushing the roof of her mouth. Then, she was being hauled up and deposited on the desk as he parted her knees and slipped between them.

”Is this what you want?” he muttered, lips soft and light against hers as he shoved her dress up her thighs, fingers creeping along the silk between them as his other hand cupped her neck, thumb stroking her cheek. 

”No teasing,” she quipped breathlessly, hands already at work on his belt and zipper. “And no more talking.”

In a matter of heartbeats, he was in her palm, already half hard, where she began to work him in earnest as his lips found hers again and he began to thrust into her curled fingers, grunting into her mouth as he moved her head as he liked, kissing her deep and hard and sloppy.

Then, without warning, he’d tugged her underwear to the side and was scissoring his fingers within her cunt and swallowing her gasp, lapping at it with his tongue and a guttural chuckle.

“You’re ready.”

Retracting his fingers, he peeled hers away and in the next breath he was inside her and she was gasping and grabbing at him as gave a few shallow thrusts to accommodate himself in her more than willing depths.

Mouth now at her neck, he tugged her legs over his hips before sliding his hands up her thighs to hold her in place as he worked himself in and out at an eager pace.

Arms draped around his broad shoulders, she held the back of his head, eyes fixed on the ornate artwork hanging on the wall behind her desk, the manor she now called home its focus. The intricate colors painted a picture of a cold and lonely abode and she found herself wondering if that was the way the artist had seen the family at the time it was painted. Were there any families who were really happy? Without secrets and lies and base manipulations?

She also wondered with blinding panic how many more times she’d hold her husband this way. Questions began blooming and heating her cheeks with more than pleasure as the weight of Asriel suffocated her in more than one way.

  
  
Her name on his lips brought her back to him, sweeping her mouth along his jaw until he was kissing her as deeply as he’d been ardently attentive with her neck. One of his hands wove through her curls as the scent and taste and feel of him attempted to drowned her. She wanted him to drowned her, suffocate her. Maybe then the ache which had steadily been building would cease and her mind could quiet. They could find their end right here, joined in the most intimate of acts and that would be all, nothing would be ruined and they could perish in their love.

If only he would be bold, take charge and smother her outright rather than little by little, tearing pieces of her heart out bit by bit and holding them too close under the microscope.

Nails half buried in his neck, she tilted her head back and let him resume laving the exposed column of her throat with his lips, teeth, and raspy breaths, each moment building the tension coiling in her veins as she grazed a hand down his chest and over his abdomen to curl around his hip for leverage.

With a hand splaying on his waist for support, she held him close and met him thrust for thrust, racing toward the crash that would make him hers, that would, for a moment, leave them as nothing more than lovers entwined rather than two separate beings with agendas that could rip them apart.

Eyes back on the wall, she held him tight, fingers curling into the back of his dark shirt as his thick grunts hotly caressed her cheek and a stray knuckle slithered into her silky, swollen folds to tear her apart.

When her release rocked her, he rolled his forehead over hers, his heavy breaths guiding her through her gasps as he watched her half mumble his name with tender touches.

Then, as he continued to coax her through her orgasm, he kissed her, soft and delicate, his hips all but stopping until she was consciously with him again.

  
“Don’t ever leave me, Asriel.”

  
She felt his smile against her mouth as he carried on kissing her, seemingly content to do so all evening rather than find his own end. “Never.”

Cupping his face, she took charge and deepened the kiss, her free hand falling to his waist where she slid it around until she was dipping it beneath his slacks and palming his ass, squeezing the firm flesh until her nails were embedded and tugging him forward impatiently.  
  


He gave a dark chuckle as he resumed his swift stride within her embrace, rebooking her leg over his hip as his free hand held down the other until he was pushing his seed deep into her womb with a throaty gasp and tight grip at her waist.

With his body sagging heavily against her, she held him until he relaxed, her hands smoothing up his back and around his shoulders as she pressed light kisses to the side of his face and neck.

As he regained his footing, he sighed and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Do you think we’ll still do this thirty years from now?”

Unable to help laughing, she nodded while chasing his mouth for another kiss. “If we haven’t killed each other yet.”

He joined in her laughter as he brought his hands up her sides and over her shoulders to hold her neck. “I think we should worry more over Lyra offing us.”

Mention of their daughter quelled her momentary lapse in memory.

”I should probably go find her and work this out.”

Asriel pulled back to fix his clothes. “She’s probably in the bath.”

  
“Alright.” As she moved to slip off the desk, he caught her hand and brought it to his lips.

”I could write you out a list of all the reasons you’re a better mother than her.” He curled her hair over her ear. “But would you like to hear what the first one on the list would be?”

“More gracefully sadistic?” she quipped sarcastically.

”Well, there’s no denying your beautiful when you’re furious,” he chuckled before sobering. “But I doubt your mother ever apologized for her lashing out. Strange as it is, my love, you’re very forgiving and willing to admit failure with Lyra.”

”I doubt Lyra sees it that way,” she whispered, shaking her head. “She thinks I’m overbearing.”

”You _are_ overbearing.” That drew a scowl from her. “Marisa, apart from myself, I know no one less patient, less willing to change themselves for another, than you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But for Lyra and even Lynx, you’ve relaxed your need to overpower and control everything to make them happy, to make them feel safe and secure. They may not ever understand how much you’ve changed, but I see it and I know how hard that is for you.”

How could she both doubt and lay every ounce of trust she possessed at this man’s feet? Meeting his eyes, she reminded, “I hurt her, Asriel.”

”She should be lucky you didn’t strangle the life out of her for what she said,” he quipped, nodding toward the door. “The next decade with that one is going to be lively for sure.”

“Agreed.”

  
With a chuckle, he adjusted his sleeves and ran a hand through his hair as he started for the door. “Come on. I’ll make sure dinner gets ready.”

He’d made it only a few steps before she caught his hand and spun him back to her, lifting up on her toes to smother his surprise with a kiss deep enough to have him leaning into her before she let up. “I trust you, Asriel.”

He frowned at her a moment before breathlessly chuckling, “I hope so.”

“I do,” she assured as much to herself as to him. “And I want you to promise me we’ll still be having unexpected sex on my desk thirty years from now.”

  
Asriel laughed again, this time with his whole being. “That’s the easiest promise I’ll ever make.”

* * *

Before she pushed open the door, she paused a moment to consider what exactly she intended to say. With Lyra, she knew it was a matter of worry of disappointment usually. Lyra worried about her place in their family and her worthiness. And now she’d gone and ruined all their work regarding Lyra’s deepest insecurities in a matter of moments and with such ease that it bordered on cruelty.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked and waited for a response, but received nothing in the form of acknowledgment from within.

”Lyra, I’m coming in.”

When she opened the door, she found her daughter sitting hunched over in the bath, her chin balanced over her knees as she held them.

”I know you probably don’t want to see me, but...” She closed the door and wrung her hands while waiting for words to come. “Is it alright if I wash your hair?”

Silence accompanied her question, but the briefest of shrugs did give her an answer.

Pan was trudging around the rim of the tub, his little mink form as hunched as Lyra’s. Oz lingered at the door as she didn’t want Lyra to feel any more tension than she already did at her presence.

Taking a seat next to the tub, she tentatively reached out to brush Lyra’s hair back, ignoring the little flinch of her shoulders.

As she set about wetting Lyra’s hair, she kept a watch on Pan to gauge his reactions, his blatant apprehension melting into mild curiosity.

  
“You know... when I was your age, my mother used to wash my hair, too, sometimes,” she commented, testing the waters so to speak. “She’d sit behind me and use the best shampoos that she’d purchased for her own hair. I used to love the smell of it because it made me feel so special to have such nice fragrances. It made me feel grown up.”  
  


Lyra visibly relaxed as Pan’s ears perked, his dark eyes watching them as she poured some shampoo into her palm and began working it into the dark hair between her fingers.

”Though, she would only take the maid’s place when it was for something important like special guests or fancy events.” Biting her lip, she tilted her head to see Lyra’s profile and that she was listening intently. “She’d sit with her hands in my hair and she’d ask me questions.”

”What kind of questions?” Lyra murmured.

The sound of her daughter’s voice filled her with a ridiculous amount of relief. “All kinds. About the books I’d read. How to hold my fork. What to say to a certain guest.” 

It was a gamble, conjuring stories from her past in an attempt to manipulate the girl’s emotions, but she was tired and ready to stoop to lowly levels. Were it she in Lyra’s place and her mother in hers, she’d have laughed in her face and walked right out the door without a glance back. Lucky for her, Lyra’s similarities diverged from her when it came to callousness. She was so... good hearted.

  
“I usually got the answers right because I knew getting them incorrect wasn’t acceptable.”

”Why?”

”Because I was supposed to be perfect,” she explained. “Cover your eyes.”

Lyra did so as she rinsed her hair until it was nothing but pure black silkiness.

”Nobody’s perfect,” Lyra commented after she’d set her hands down.

Smiling in spite of herself, she nodded, “I was never allowed to make mistakes, not even little ones like using the wrong fork without...” She sighed. “What happened earlier, Lyra... I know better than anyone how it feels to have your mother snap at you in such a way and I need you to know I regret it with all of my heart.”

The confusion welled to the surface in Lyra’s mannerisms again as she began to fidget. Finally. With her daughter’s anger at bay, she’d at last be able to relax and coax her way back into her child’s good graces.

“Would you prefer I didn’t care, Lyra?” she asked softly. “If I just let you run around and never paid you any attention? Do you really think you’re better off without your father or I caring about you, trying to protect you from things you know nothing of, trying to teach you that life extends beyond the riverfolk and Oxford...”

“I just-“ Lyra shrugged her shoulders and hooked her arms over her legs again. “I just want...”

“Here.” She reached for a towel and held it up between them for Lyra to step out and into it. “All good?”

”Mhm.”

Wrapping it around her, she pulled Lyra close, relief coursing through her when she reached out and cupped Lyra’s cheeks without resistance. “I promise you, it’ll never happen again. I won’t ever be like her again.”

“Mama,” Lyra whimpered as she fell into her, arms going around her neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“I know,” she murmured, stroking Lyra’s damp hair. “We have to find some middle ground somewhere, Lyra. You can’t keep sneaking out and getting in trouble.”

Lyra lifted her head to gaze down at her, her cheeks wet. “I’ll listen.”

Wiping her daughter’s tears away, she nodded. “You’ve said that before.”

Pan nuzzled at the backs of her knuckles, surprising her as the feeling of the connection never failed to do.

“I’ll be good and I won’t go out. I won’t disappoint you again.”

“You don’t disappoint me, Lyra,” she assured. “We’re just... too alike at times.”

“I don’t see how.” Lyra shook her head. “You _are_ perfect almost all the time and I try to be like you, but I’m awful at it and I-” She choked on her own voice. “I try so hard-”

“Oh, my sweet girl, you are just like I was when I was your age.” She tilted her head and lifted Lyra’s hand to examine the dirty fingernails with a grin. “Well, almost. We can blame your outdoor _adventures_ on your father.”

Lyra didn’t seem amused.

”Lyra,” she laughed, tapping her nose. “You have your whole life to grow up and... I’m not perfect, but darling it took me my whole life to get where I am.”

”I guess so.”

”We’ll, I know so. You are beautiful and brilliant and so funny. I wouldn’t trade you for a hundred Sally’s or Jane’s. Do you know why?”

Lyra shook her head as doubt held firm as her dominant emotion.

”Because there’s no one else like you, Lyra Belacqua. You are the perfect reflection of myself and the man that I love. You’re everything good about us and more and I don’t want to change who you are at all because your are so uniquely _you._ I just... I just want to help you survive and have all the tools you need to be whatever you want to be when you grow up.”

When Lyra still didn’t seem moved to let it go, she tilted her chin up again.

”Whether or not I was there the whole time, I have always been your mother and if I say you’re brilliant, you _have_ to believe me.” She smiled again and shook Lyra’s arms to try and draw out a smile. “It’s an order.”

A small smile was all she received, but it was enough for her to start with.

  
  
“How about I take you to visit Roger, tomorrow, hmm?” she offered, further hoping to appease Lyra. “You can give your grandmother fits instead of me for a change.”

“Really?” Lyra’s spirits brightened considerably. “Promise?”

“Yes,” she laughed. “Now, go and get dressed so we can eat.”

“I can do that!” Lyra sprinted toward the door only to come up short when she opened it, her joy sobering a bit. “Mama?”

  
“Yes, darling?”

”I love you.”

A bright smile broke out without her even thinking about it. The earnestness and complete _devotion_ in those three simple words...

”I love you, too, Lyra.”

Lyra lit up again before she darted from the room with Pan scampering after her. The moment she disappeared, her smile fell away and she sighed, bringing a hand to her head.

“We were never that innocent and forgiving,” Oz commented, finally entering the bathroom. “We were vile.”

”We’re still vile,” she bit, glaring at him as she pushed herself up and leaned over to let the water rush out of the drain.

”Asriel doesn’t think so.”

”Asriel,” she murmured, turning to the mirror and taking in her smudged makeup and mussed curls. “I don’t know what Asriel thinks any more.”

”He takes care of us. He loves us.”

”Yes, he does,” she agreed, casting him a pathetically helpless look. “That’s what scares me the most.”


	24. Who Do You Belong To, Marisa?

_ “You’re exhausting,” she sighed as he nuzzled at her ear, his heavy weight completely stretched out over her on the floor as their hearts hammered against each other’s breasts. “Don’t you ever run out of energy?” _

_ His laughter shook the both of them as he smeared kisses along her cheek until he was teasing her lips as he nuzzled his nose against hers. “I never know when you’re going to kick me out. I have to get everything I can from you  _ while _ I can.” _

_ Rolling her eyes, she stroked the pads of her fingers around his neck and shoulders, dragging them through the sweat clinging to his skin. Dinner alone had led to dinner with him, which of course she should have seen coming as he’d shown up nearly every day since she’d returned from the North, greedy hunger glinting in his eyes for everything she had to offer._

_ Now, strewn out on the carpet between her sofas, she was reeling from the effects of an overzealous appetite, energy completely sapped. _

_“We have to sleep sometime.” _

_ “We can sleep when we’re apart.” _

_ “Which seems to be never,” she mused, tilting her face from him to catch his eyes. “You’ve been overstaying your welcome more often than not.” _

_ “You haven’t seemed to mind,” he quipped, rolling his hips into hers, drawing a groan up her throat and a swipe of her nails over his bicep. _

_ “You’re not the only man in my life, you know.” _

_ “Is Boreal jealous?” he chuckled, shifting to rest beside her while propping his head in his hand with a smug grin. “Do you prefer his little snake to my wild cat?” _

_ “Asriel,” she scolded as his fingers took to dancing along her belly. “You’ve been here every night for a week. Someone’s bound to notice.” _

_ “Oh? Do you want to switch us out?” he wondered aloud, scratching his short nails over her ribs, the blue in his eyes clear and overflowing with amusement. “Does he prefer your monkey, the little goblin bastard that he is, to all the rest the way I do?” _

_ “Why wouldn’t he? I fuck him just as well as I do you.” _

_ A heavy growl worked it’s way up his throat as he snapped a hand around her neck, though his eyes never changed. “Liar.” _

_ A smirk settled in her features that had him squeezing enough to cause a slight discomfort, but not enough to wipe it away. “Jealous?” _

_ “Of Boreal?” he scoffed, before laughing as he loosened his grip and traced a finger down her throat and over her chest. “He has the aptitude of my left foot.” _

_ Letting him have his way, she sighed and closed her eyes, content under his watchful gaze as he once again didn’t seem to be leaving. Far from being able to deny she liked him there, spending most nights in her bed, making love to her and holding her like years of hopeless pain didn’t lie between them, she absorbed the feel of his fingers appreciating her skin.  _

_ Once again, the cycle was repeating and they were growing more and more intoxicated with each other. It seemed with every day that passed, she felt him bleeding more and more into her. Little spats and barbed comments led to heated exchanges which led to violent reconciliation while soft gestures and shared intellect led to long bouts of reaffirmation of the fact that no one knew them better than the other. _

_Like now, with his fingers tracing the faded, webbed patterns along her belly, she knew his thoughts had turned and in turn she ran her hand down his arm to catch his fingers and hold them still. _

_ Lyra. _

_ They always came back to Lyra. More than any other tool, their daughter was used to both rip each other apart and solidify their bond. _

_ “Aren’t you the least bit curious?” he asked softly. _

_ “Of course I am,” she admitted, swallowing down any sign that her curiosity had been sated much more recently than his as her mind drifted to the girl she’d met a few weeks prior. _

_ “She’s eight now.” He palmed her belly as he once had when they were still expecting their child, before circumstances had soured and they were still hopeful of escaping consequence. “And, according to the Master, quite the little liar.” _

_ “I’d expect nothing less,” she laughed, shifting toface him as she brought his fingers to her lips, kissing each knuckle. “She’s ours.” _

_ “He also said she could charm anything with a pair of ears,” he added with a grin, winding an arm around her to pull her closer. “And she’s quick on her feet, too.” _

_ Smiling, she brushed her fingers along his cheek and over his brow, tracing the same features their daughter bore.  
_

_ “She’s perfect, then.” _

_To think, there’d been a time she’d hated their similarities... wished them away even. Now, she delighted in each part right down to the way confusion knit their brow in little vertical lines. She could see the lies pouring out of Lyra’s mouth as surely as she was now touching him. _

_ His stillness drew her attention, his brow knitting in those same little lines. _

_ ”Why so quiet?” she laughed, rubbing her toes along his calf. “Cat got your tongue?” _

_Rather than joining her teasing, he sighed, “Your research... with the children... do you ever worry it might be her?” _

_ Movements stilling to match his, she felt a sharp tug of foreboding in her chest as all amusement drained from her. “What do you mean?” _

_ “What if she’s accidentally picked up? What if you cut her and she-“ _

_ “That’ll never happen,” she quickly interrupted, cutting that line of thought right off. _

_ “But how would you know?” he pressed, hand at her waist squeezing insistently. “You didn’t even know what she looked like before I left you that picture and it’s not as though you publicize you have a daughter, much less spread her name around.” _

_ “Asriel,” she groaned, eyes falling to his chest as a means to slip away from the condemnation in his gaze. “That’s not-“ She rubbed her palm over her eyes, knowing another spat was hurtling forward. “It won’t happen.”_

_ “It’s a valid question, Marisa. From what the Master says, she’s a rambunctious weasel who simply can’t be contained and often escapes her family to roam around Oxford. What’s to stop a mistake from happening?”_

_ Lyra’s face seemed to have painted itself across the backs of her eyelids forcing her to open her eyes to find him watching her unblinkingly and with a searchlight so bright she was nearly blinded by him. He almost seemed panicked, a word she’d never use to describe him._

_ “Her family?” she whispered dejectedly, almost low enough that she wondered if she’d even uttered it. Her mother? Marcel? That was the family Asriel was unintentionally calling their daughter’s closest kin. The absurdity of it. There was a part of her that wanted to throw it in his face just to see how incensed he could become. He’d have a fit if he knew. _

_ Clearly having heard her low question, he ran his fingers over her cheek and softly asked, “Is she our family, my love?”  
_

_ When she didn’t respond, he added, “_ _Of all the things you could have done with your brilliance... I can’t understand why you allow them to benefit from it, allow them to have you when their fanatical ideology is what took her from us.” _

_ Discomfort finally forced her out of his arms as she sat up. _

_ “Marisa-“ _

_ She cast him a murderous glare as she found her feet. “I have an early morning.” Pulling on her robe, she tugged the belt around herself; motions jerky and unforgiving. “You’ve officially overstayed your welcome.” _

_ It seemed Lyra would forever be a wedge between them, one she couldn’t remove unless she confessed which she’d never do. _

_ Her daemon gave a low growl as she threw her bedroom door open, prompting her to glance at him with such contempt that he left her view and moved to the other side of the bed. _

_ That was fine. He could sulk all he liked, she thought bitterly, shrugging her robe and throwing it over a chair before all but collapsing into her bed. _

_ Asriel’s question was indeed valid. Not for the first time since their recent meeting, she considered her once remiss thoughts of the child and the very blurry image she’d had of her in her head as the results came across her desk, names and faces staring up at her. Every dark haired girl had drawn a tickle to her thoughts, but she’d forced herself to not acknowledge Lyra’s name, not acknowledge her existence at all. It had been easy, simple to force the girl into a sealed box at the back of her mind.  
_

_However, since meeting her, talking to her, she’d thought of little else. There’d even been times she’d had to force herself from returning to her childhood home prematurely to just stare at her, sweep her fingers through her dark locks, or hear her spill fibs as easily as breathing. It was as though she was suddenly consumed with motherhood and what it might mean that she was now so conflicted; that she wanted... _

_ As sure as the sun’s appearance meant the moon’s departure, his presence loomed in her doorway._

_ “I told you to leave.” _

_ “Yes, you did.”_

_ He settled beside her, lying on his back, gaze set to the ceiling along with hers. For a few long heartbeats she allowed the silence to stoke the ache in her chest until she was ready to burst. _

_ “I’m not sure what you expect from me, Asriel. There’s no room for you in my life; for either of you.” She steeled herself as she let the next bit out, hoping she sounded convincing enough to drive the point home. “I chose ambition and power and I intend to keep them. If you think bringing up some girl who bears little to no resemblance to myself will change that, then you’re as delusional as everyone thinks.” _

_ “I’m well aware of your loyalties, Marisa.” _

_ “My loyalties?” she laughed. _ _ Eyeing his demeanor, she took note of his hardened features and sighed. “I like having you in my bed. Why can’t that be enough for you?” _

_ “Is that what I am, Marisa?” He rolled his head to look at her, blue eyes flitting over her face. “Just another man in your bed? Like Boreal?” _

_   
“Most men would be satisfied with that.” _

_ ”Most men aren’t the father of your child.” Stel growled from behind her. “Most men don’t understand why you’re doing what you’re doing.”_

_ “Father of my child,” she laughed again, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose before letting it go with a deep breath. “What does the why of it matter? My research is ground breaking. If I were a man there’d be no question because it’s a scientifically worthy pursuit that’s going to change lives.”_

_ “Whose lives? Yours? Mine? The Magisterium’s?” He turned to her, propping on an elbow as he stared down at her. “Their days are numbered. Eventually the people they oppress will have enough of them.” _

_ “And until that day, I will use them as I please and as for you... what I do in my spare time is none of your business. You’re an occasional fuck, Asriel; not my husband. That’s what you’ve always been.”_

_ Even as the words left her mouth, she regretted them and felt herself blinking in surprise that’s she’d said them._

_ His jaw tightened, indignation radiating off him so thickly she nearly shifted further away from him. _

_ “Your mother is no doubt proud,” he finally grunted, tone unforgiving. “Being the Magisterium’s bitch is all she’s ever wanted for her baby girl, isn’t it?” _

_ Tilting her head dangerously, she flinched when he reached to catch her chin. _

_ “Honestly, if that’s how you’d have modeled yourself for our daughter, it’s likely a good thing you let them convince you to abandon her.”_

_The sting to the back of her hand connecting with his chest was punctuated with a growl as he snatched her hand and slammed it over her head while he rolled over her and pinned her to the bed. She’d blame the pain for the unshed tears building in her eyes and not the fact that their words were trading deeper wounds than any weapon could._

_“Selfish monkey,” he snarled, free hand laying around her neck, fingers biting into her flesh less gently than earlier. “Why are you so fucking cruel, Marisa?”_

_  
Her daemon was behind Asriel a heartbeat later, perched on his shoulders as his little, black nails dug into Asriel’s throat, making him grunt as a flinch shuddered down his body._

_In return, Stel growled as she laid her front paws on the edge of the bed. “Asriel,” she warned, her tone disapproving, but guarded._

_Asriel stopped the leopard with a shake of his head and a moment later he let go of her neck. Her daemon was quick to scamper off him, but didn’t stray far as he settled beside her on the pillow, his dark eyes latched onto her agitated lover. _

_ Asriel didn’t look at her again after that. Instead, he shifted to his back, eyes returned to the ceiling. There was a weight attached to him now, something he seemed to be carrying that was growing and the longer the silence carried on, the harder the lump in her throat swelled. _

_ Finally, he sat up and took a deep breath, running his hands over his face and through his hair as he looked over the side of the bed where she knew Stel’s golden eyes were staring into his. No doubt, the more rational of the two were cautioning that it was time to leave._

_ With that thought came a wash of needy panic. _

_ “I don’t know another way to be,” she softly admitted, deciding at once he wasn’t allowed to leave her unless it was her decision. _

_ “I know,” he whispered, finally looking at her, beseeching her with every ounce of himself she could bare to see. “You weren’t always so hateful and twisted, though.”_

_ Tearing her eyes from him, she forced a laugh over the knot in her throat. She didn’t know what else to do besides laugh. She certainly wasn’t going to cry. _

_ ”She’s better off without us,” he murmured wearily, pushing up from the bed. “We would’ve ruined her.” _

_The ache in her chest was pressing now._

_”Asriel.” She sat up, eyes plastered to his naked form, the evidence of their newly ignited affair tracing a path across his shoulders and the expanse of his back. “I-”_

_“Do you remember what you asked me the night we created her?” he abruptly asked, turning back to her, brow knit and eyes piercing. “That night on the docks? After my brother’s funeral?”_   
  


_Struck dumb, she frowned and muttered, ”I don’t-”_

_”You asked me never to touch anyone else the way I touch you.” He took a step toward her, agitation visible in his jerky mannerisms. “You told me you couldn’t breathe when you thought I was gone from you.”_

_Nerves overtook her as she shifted uncomfortably. “I- We were both deeply intoxicated.”_

_He laughed, the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth wrinkling. “No, you admitted you were capable of a genuine feeling, and then you ran away from me afterward, avoided me for weeks.”_

_”Your mother told me to stay away from you,” she swiftly spat, shooting daggers at him. “More than once.”_

_Asriel crossed his arms and raised one, thick eyebrow. “That’s your best argument?”_

_Rolling her eyes, she planted her gaze on the blankets bunched around her legs. “I’m too exhausted to orchestrate a better argument.”_

_”I’ve never touched anyone the way I touch you, Marisa.”_

_She rubbed her eyes as she let out a sardonic, ”Am I supposed to say thank you?”_

_The bed sank as he settled next to her, _ _suddenly overwhelmingly close, hands gently cupping her neck as he drew her into him, his lips caressing every part of her he could reach, cheeks to neck to shoulders. Then, he was kissing from the pads of her fingers to her wrist. “You know I think you’re brilliant, don’t you?”  
  
_

_ Unable to form words against his gentle assault, she nodded her agreement. _

_”So extraordinary.” He ascended the length of her arm, h_ _is breath coming quick as he pressed hot kisses to her shoulder and the side of her throat, a sense of urgency about him now. “I’ve never loved anyone else.” _

_ Enveloped in his embrace, she felt her muscles go slack under his touch, like he was spreading poison along her back and face as he caressed and kissed her, taking her will and utilizing it for himself._

_ ”Asriel-” _

_ _

_ “I am not just another fuck to you,” he pressed, kissing her again and then pulling back to look into her eyes, a gentle, yet firm heat radiating in his sea of blue. “Deny loving me all you like, but don’t ever forget that I knew you before those zealots tore you to pieces.” _

_Touching her fingers to his lips, she nodded, “Why can’t you just be easily satisfied like everyone else? Fuck me and know I like it best.”_

_He smiled. “You wouldn’t love me, then.”_

“But I’ll look dumb,” Lyra groaned. “We have to get out of it.”

Signaling Ms. Taylor to take Lynx upstairs for a bath, she moved to the far side of the foyer and leaned against the opening, gazing sweeping the living room and landing on her husband and daughter.

Asriel was sitting with his back to her as Lyra paced in front of him, her hands flailing as she spun. Even from this angle, she found it difficult to look at him.

After the revelations uncovered, today, it had taken all of her willpower to keep her feet under her and then the entire car ride home, she’d felt like the car was closing in on her, like the air was too thin and she was on the verge of gasping for a breath, any breath that might right her crumbling life.

“You could convince her I’m sick.”

Pan echoed his agreement from Lyra’s shoulder, the little weasel playing his part well.

Asriel laughed, the sound snatching her heart and squeezing the vital organ into a misshapen and unidentifiable mass as she watched him scratch the side of his face where he’d allowed his beard to grow back.

He had been supposed to shave it for tonight’s event, but she supposed he wasn’t inclined to do so. Apparently, she could add it the list of disappointments regarding her husband.

“I’m not lying to your mother, Lyra.”

Was the universe taunting her for her many sins, now?

Heart slamming against her ribs, she pushed away from the paneling, catching Lyra’s attention, who stood straighter, eyes widening like a fly caught in a web.

“Mama.”

The moment Asriel turned, she held her breath, forcing her nails to relax and retract from her palms as she plastered a smile to her face she prayed he wouldn’t read.

“It doesn’t look like either of you are in a rush to get ready.” She glanced at her watch, the watch he’d given her for her birthday. “We don’t have much time.”

Lyra gave a pitiful little groan as she let her head roll back. “I don’t _want_ to go.”

“Life is full of little disappointments,” she lamented, stepping into the room and holding out her hand to her sulking daughter, who dragged her feet as she moved around the sofa to take it.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Asriel standing, but she only spared him the briefest of glances as she reminded, “You were supposed to shave.”

“It’s my last resort to rebelling against this outing.”

“See?” Lyra’s exclaimed, practically dislocating her shoulder as she jumped and spun, hand jerking within hers. “He doesn’t want to go either!”

“Lyra,” she sighed, starting toward the staircase. “We’ve already discussed this. It’s for your school-“

“But you know I don’t care about that school.”

“Your grandmother will be there,” she reminded, practically pulling her daughter along behind her. “You know she’s looking forward to bragging about you.”

The huff Lyra returned was about the best she’d get as she cast a look over her shoulder to her husband who was watching her with an odd expression, questions swirling in his blue depths. “Get rid of that thing. We’re all going to look our best.”

Let him worry. If she could shove his concern down his throat and choke him with it, she’d do just that.

By the time Lyra had bathed and was sitting in front of her at her vanity, she’d curled and styled her own hair all the while listening to Lynx babble to Flora at her feet. He was so close to words, she could taste them, which was one of the reasons she’d taken him with her, today. While she wasn’t beyond using her son as a manipulation device, she also truly didn’t wish to miss his first words as she had Lyra’s.

After slipping into her evening gown, she smoothed her hands down the champagne colored satin and took a deep breath.

One night. For Lyra, she could make it one more night of pretending.

“Your hair is getting so long.” She parted Lyra’s hair, combing out the knots. “I think it might be as long as mine now.”

Lyra fidgeted with the arm rest and responded with some muted little quip she didn’t catch.

“It’s the first time we get to see you at school,” she carried on, trying to encourage the pout on Lyra’s lips. “With all your teachers and classmates.”

“My teachers loathe me and my classmates think they’re better than me.”

“Jane doesn’t,” she assured, combing the silky, dark locks back so she could pin them with the pearl encrusted comb Lyra had gotten for Christmas, another gift from Asriel.

“Only because you and her mother made us become friends because we were the two biggest losers there.”

At the edge of her patience, she summoned the last nerve she had. “Lyra, why don’t you tell me what’s really wrong and maybe I can fix it. I thought you were enjoying school more. You even said there was a teacher you liked now. Ms. Kingsley?”

For all the hot air Lyra let out, they could have filled a hot air balloon. Next, came the fidgeting. Then, the darting eyes. All tale tell signs that Lyra had either done something or needed to confess something she intended to do.

“Lyra-“

“Everyone will be watching me.”

Brow knit, she tilted her head to better gauge her daughter as she’d never been one to shy away from attention. “Alright?”

And then it all came out in a rush. “Grandmother Madeline will be there and it’s her school and father thinks I can charm anyone, but I just-“ Lyra came up short and met her eyes, deep seated worry tinging every facet of her face. “What if I mess up?”

“Mess up? Darling-“

“I’ll embarrass her and you and I- I don’t want to make you angry at me again.”

Chest burning with anguish, she stared at Lyra, who was now completely avoiding her eyes. She blamed Asriel. This was his fault along with all the rest. If he wasn’t such a conniving liar, she’d have never reacted as she had with Lyra in the first place.

“My love, look at me.” She moved to the side and tilted Lyra’s face up. “Perhaps, you will mess up.”

Lyra frowned all the more. “Mama-“

Leaning down close to her daughter, she shushed her, “And if you do, I need you to remember something very, very important.”

With the largest and most beautiful brown eyes she’d ever seen, Lyra looked to her doubtfully. “What?”

“Your grandmother loves you. Your father loves you... and, more than either of them, _I_ love you.” Shoving every other thought away, she gently smiled and lifted a hand to stroke the pad of her thumb along Lyra’s cheek. “No amount of mess ups or mistakes will ever change that. Alright?”

Lyra bobbed her head a few times, but she could see she hadn’t really convinced her of anything. “Ok.”

“Good,” she sighed with a light laugh, knowing it would take actually seeing it to believe for Lyra to accept her words, and pushed herself to her feet. “Now, let’s finish this quickly so we aren’t late.”

A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened and Lynx squealed at the sight of Asriel and began crawling forward with Flora charging clumsily ahead in her little fox form to meet Stelmaria only to fall face first into the carpet and cause Lynx to begin whining as he banged his fist against the floor.

Lyra giggled, prompting her to tap her nose and nod at the mirror so she’d straighten back up.

“Satisfied?” Asriel asked, drawing her eyes to find him clean shaven as he picked Lynx up, his suit already on save for his jacket.

“Yes,” she replied rather shortly before turning back to Lyra’s hair to place the finishing touches. “There. All done.”

Asriel stopped beside them and looked Lyra over, eyes drifting over the dark green lace of her dress, a color chosen for the simple fact that it looked like the trees in the backyard she liked to climb. “Look at it this way, we may all be social pariah’s, but at least we’ll be the best looking lot there.”

Lyra grinned at him like he’d just wiped all doubt from her mind. Such envy arose in her that she found herself turning from them to unplug the curler before she swiped it against his face just to watch him melt.

“May I go now?”

“Yes, wait downstairs,” she said, now picking through her jewelry box. Lyra jumped up and she quickly added before she could escape the room, “But do _not_ go outside.”

With Lyra out of earshot, she felt Asriel’s tension without even looking at him.

“Mari-“

“Did you tell Thorold what time we’re leaving?”

“I-yes,” he stuttered. “He’s likely already waiting in the driveway.”

“Good,” she quipped, having sorted herself, and turned to slip into the heels Oz was holding. “If you’re ready-“

“I’d like to know why you won’t look at me.”

“What?” she chuckled, forcing a light laugh as she turned to take Lynx and briefly meet his eyes. “Don’t be absurd.”

However, rather than parting with their son, he held fast and caught her arm, preventing her from moving away. “Don’t lie.”

_The audacity_.

Oz gave a high pitched snarl that startled Asriel enough to release her, allowing her to swiftly start for the door. “Give Lynx to Ms. Taylor and meet us at the car.”

* * *

If it wasn’t for Lyra between them rambling about her teachers, she was sure Asriel would have pinned her beneath him until she confessed by now. The heat of his gaze was scorching her and he hadn’t let it up in the fifteen minutes since they’d loaded. What was worse was the way Stel was also picking her apart as Oz remained in her lap rather than in the front seat with the leopard.

  
His smooth black fingers kept curling around her wrist, squeezing just enough to keep her from hyperventilating.

“Wow,” Lyra muttered, gripping the front seat and pulling forward to look at the line of cars. “I feel really sick, now.”

“Don’t,” she assured, reaching out to rub soothing circles between Lyra’s shoulder blades. “They’ll all be thinking only of themselves.”

A charity event with all the pompous elites for the school was the reason Lyra had been riddled with anxiety for three days. Apparently, it was to raise funds for the up and coming programs they promised would keep St. Catherine’s one step above the rest. So, in other words, it was a fancy way of asking for money without begging.

Lyra’s hand in hers was steadily moistening as Asriel greeted a few people right inside the doors.

“Lord Asriel,” an older gentleman practically sang, clapping Asriel’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you had an interest here.”

“Quite the interest,” Asriel replied with a chuckle, gesturing for Lyra to step forward, which she did, dropping her hand and taking his now.

And so it went for a good fifteen minutes. Asriel’s daughter this and Asriel’s daughter that. It made her teeth ache more deeply each time she heard it. Eventually, she found a way to extract herself.

“Jane simply adores Lyra,” Velma praised as they walked side by side, glancing over the students’ artwork hung neatly along the walls. “She’s always been so shy and Lyra just brings her right out of her shell so much.”

“Lyra’s nothing if not outgoing,” she laughed, sipping her flute of champagne while wondering which of the pieces belonged to her child. She had a feeling she’d know it when she saw it.

The theme was meant to be a depiction of the girls’ happiest moment. She imagined for Lyra it would be something to do with that ridiculous kitchen boy or some scheme she’d gotten away with at school.

From what she’d seen thus far with the many scenes involving presents, vacations, and awards, there was a great lack of talent in St. Catherine’s art department.

“Oh, yes,” Velma carried on, amused. “She says Lyra is always concocting some nefarious plan or another on how best to undermine the other girls here. She loves plotting with her.” Velma nodded towards the Manford’s, who were chatting up a few of the teachers with Sally standing between them looking more like a little princess than a student. “She certainly put a stop to Sally’s bullying. Jane says Lyra has become quite popular amongst the quieter girls.”

”Really?” she asked, slightly surprised. Lyra made it seem like she was the most despised girl here, a stink bug in a field of butterflies she’d put it once.

”Oh, yes, she has an entire following, now.”

“Well,” she laughed. “They’ll have the run of this place in no time.”

“Oh, she learned that honestly, didn’t she, darling?”

It was the last nail in the day’s coffin. The sound of her mother’s voice sent a chill down her spine as she turned to find the woman in question just behind her, tall and slender and unwanted as ever.

“Mother.” She stood straighter, jaw tight as Oz’s nails scratched at her ankles. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to miss out on supporting Lyra.” Diana smiled, red lipstick stretching over her thin lips as the false cheer dripped from between them. “I have done so since she was a small girl, haven’t I?”

Bristling unintentionally, she distracted herself with another sip of her drink, shoving down the desire to smash the entire thing into the ground.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

”Of course not,” Diana commented, gray eyes shifting to Velma and giving her a hard once over. “Diana Delamare.”

Velma smiled brightly as she lifted her head, having the decency to pretend she wasn’t listening. “Velma Dodds. It’s nice to meet you. We adore your family, Mrs. Delamare. Marisa and Asriel have a beautiful family.”

”Hmm,” her mother hummed, nodding in return. “Well, they are quite charming when they wish to be.  Where is my darling granddaughter, anyhow?” Her mother’s eyes danced about as the grotesque lizard at her shoulder flicked his tongue out toward Oz. “Ah, there she is now.”

Following her mother’s gaze, she spotted Lyra and Jane chattering amongst a small group of girls, oblivious to her plight as their dameons scurried about above and below them.

“I suppose you let her choose the color?”

The snide comment was laced with disapproval.

“Lyra enjoys her individuality,” she quipped, cutting her eyes at her mother. “We’re honing it instead of _stripping_ it.”

“We? Don’t tell me Asriel has taken to giving fashion advice to the girl. Though, that would explain a few things.”

“Actually, yes,” she replied, turning to face her mother completely. She may be ready to slit his throat, but that was her business and no one was going to undermine him. “He’s a wonderful father.”

“Only because he had a wonderful mother,” Madeline’s familiar voice penetrated their group, drawing her gaze around to find the woman practically gliding toward them in her dark evening gown, the wolf at her feet as regal and intimidating as ever. “You look stunning as always, dear.” 

Her mother-in-law’s words were accompanied by a kiss to her cheek, taking her slightly aback.

“And Diana,” Madeline’s brown eyes shifted to her mother with such sweet greeting she was sure the woman must be drunk. “Here to support our granddaughter?”

“Of course.”

Madeline preened as she laid a hand over her arm. “I’ve heard nothing but praise from her teachers so far. They say she has the most energy and imagination of all the students here.”  


For once, her mother seemed off kilter. Though, she couldn’t decide if it was Madeline’s display or the fact that she had stolen her thunder.

Diana laughed in a way only she knew wasn’t genuine. “I’ve heard she’s the most disruptive as well. I doubt the teachers will say such, though.”

Velma cleared her throat and gestured her departure. “I’ll check on the girls.”

”Mother, who invited you exactly?” she snapped, smile still there but eyes piercing. “This is a private school.”

”I’m here with a friend who’s granddaughter attends here as well. Lovely girl, but I’m not sure he’s aware that’s she’s a bit of a dimwit.”

“Nothing like Lyra, then.” Madeline turned to her with a wink. “Marisa’s been doing so well with her.”

Her mother wasn’t the only one to lift an eyebrow at that.   
  


“Darling, I would love to introduce my son’s wonderful wife to a few friends of mine.” Madeline took her by the arm. “They’ve been asking to meet Lyra’s mother.”

Odd, but better than keeping company with her own mother, she accepted Madeline’s offered arm and moved away with her.

”You looked as though you needed a reprieve,” Madeline commented when they were out of earshot to which she only had time to mutter a small thanks before she was met with Madeline’s first introduction.

For the next twenty minutes, she proceeded to be described as no less than flawless. The compliments flowed from Madeline’s lips like honey from a comb; smooth and rich. Her skills as a mother had been praised and she was apparently the most doting wife Asriel could have ever hoped for. She couldn’t help but wonder if Madeline knew she was on the verge of slitting her son’s throat and was trying to placate her.

While the two of them had reconciled to be polite and had even learned to make pleasant small talk when Lyra was brought to visit, it was still a strange thing to hear praise from the woman considering they’d been at odds from practically day one.

_“Asriel,” she scolded, slapping his chest and pushing herself up when the morning sun finally registered._

_He rolled into her, his arm tightening around her waist. “Not yet.”_

_“The sun is up,” she said, quickly disentangling from his limbs and slipping from the bed, only to come up short as a migraine made itself known with a sharp throb along her temple. “You said you’d have Thorold wake us.”_

_“I did,” he growled, reaching out for her only to graze the back of her thighs._

_“Asriel,” she groaned, nearly stomping her foot as she noted the bruising along her hips and thighs, the throbbing lines from the desk the morning before particularly dark. That was to say nothing of the very blatant bite mark on her wrist or the hickey over her pubic bone. “How am I supposed to hide this?”_

_He eyed the marks with an appreciative smirk before replying with a simple, “Don’t.”_

_With a frustrated growl, she spun from him. Her clothes were everywhere and yet nowhere in the upturned room. After leaving the docks the night before, they’d moved into the house. Asriel had been more docile than usual, but that didn’t mean he’d failed to make her use every ounce of willpower she had not to alert his mother and half of Oxford to the fact of what they were doing behind his closed, bedroom door. For the first time in her life, she felt like a teenager sneaking from her boyfriend’s mother’s house and had to stifle the urge to roll her eyes at the ridiculousness of it._

_Tugging her underwear up her legs, she spotted her dress carelessly rumpled on the floor by the door. She certainly couldn’t wear that home without raising an eyebrow or two._

_“Come back to bed,” he groaned, rolling to his stomach and hugging her pillow._

_“I have to go before your mother wakes.”_

_“She’s likely already up,” he murmured, turning to watch her. “And it’s not like she doesn’t know.”_

_“I’d rather not have another confrontation this soon,” she snapped, frustration at the causal way he expressed people knowing about them seemed to roll of his lips. “She looked ready to murder me yesterday when she found us and I’m in no state to mince words, today.”_

_Where were her shoes? “Find them!” she snapped at her daemon, who was less inclined to leave the leopard’s embrace than she’d been to leave Asriel’s._

_“Leave him be and lay with me.”_

_“Asriel-“_

_“Please.”_

_The word stopped her in her frenzied tracks as she looked to him. The odd sound of it reverberated in her skull as she stood half naked in his room, the morning sun pressing the warning against her flesh of how high the likelihood was that she would now be spotted leaving the house at this time._

_“Please, Marisa. Just for a few more hours.”_

_She’d like to pretend she didn’t wilt under his needy stare, but that would be a lie; one accompanied by her fingers stroking his cheek as she sat on the bed’s edge._

_“This is dangerous, Asriel.”_

_His arms came around her waist as he moved his head to her lap and inhaled the scent of her skin, his nose burrowing against her belly just above the ridge of her underwear._

_“He’s not expecting you anytime soon.”_

_The dark circles under his eyes spoke of his sleeplessness for the past few nights and the way he clung to her spoke of too many other things she wanted to remain hidden._

_“Still,” she whispered, rubbing her fingers into the knots along his shoulders, eyes taking in the places she’d, too, marked him. “I can’t just spend the day here. I trust Thorold not to say anything and maybe even your mother, but the rest of the staff-“_

_“There’s no one else here.” He pressed a soft kiss to her hip. “Mother dismissed them after the funeral saying she wished to be left alone.”_

_At a loss for excuses, she sighed and leaned back against the headboard. “You’re going to ruin me.”_

_His body shook as he laughed. “As if a nasty monkey like you needed me to ruin you.”_

_Pinching his shoulder, she squealed when he sunk his teeth into the flesh just over her left hip._

_”Asriel, no more marks,” she scolded again, twisting her fingers in his hair only to flinch when he wouldn’t let go._

_He palmed her lower back, holding her tight and punctuating every tug of her fingers to his scalp with a deep, animal-like growl._

_”Asshole,” she quipped, popping a hand over his ear._

_”Mine,” he murmured, finally retracting his teeth when her grip loosened. Then, with mock remorse, he laved it with his tongue and suckled at it gently._

_  
When he at last pulled back, he left behind a slick, defined set of teeth imprints, white from the pressure and bright red in the center. She knew it’d be bruised within the hour._

_”Satisfied? If he sees this, we’re both dead. Have you any care for my well being?”_

_Her glare was met with a toothy smirk as he kissed the mark again, his fingers coming up to brush it._

_”If you stayed with me for a few days, they could heal and he’d be none the wiser.”_

_Toying with the lobe of his ear, she twisted it and took pleasure in his shudder. ”And I’d tell him I’m where, exactly?”_

_Catching her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed each knuckle. “Bonding with your mother, of course.”_

_  
Very nearly snorting, she stole her hand from him and made like she would push him away. “You’re impossible.”_

_  
Instead of playing with her further, he yawned and snuggled deeper into her._

_“I adore you, monkey.” With his head resting on her thigh, he murmured, “My monkey.”_

_His thumb kept brushing the new mark until_ _he was asleep again and she was left to stare at the wall and him and their entangled daemons and the sun which kept creeping into the sky, taunting her with how on the spot and prevalent her sins were this day._

_The feeling of panic and despair still ached in that place in her chest which was supposed to be hallowed out and bereft of that beating organ that made others become foolish and careless._

_Not once had she ever compromised herself for another. There’d never been a single thought given to self sacrifice in her short, but aged life. Yet, now, here she sat, holding a man she’d not shared vows with, had never even admitted before last night a mild appreciation for other than how he could benefit her, and she was wrecked beyond any logical comprehension._

_For the few brief hours where she’d thought him forever beyond her reach, she’d mourned the loss of him in a way that had very nearly broken what soul she had left. Words had tumbled from her lips the night before that never should have been given air. The admittance that she couldn’t breathe without him would come back to haunt her, she was sure of it, because if he remembered them, he would hound her to the very last breath she possessed to repeat them._

_Eyes falling to his dark locks, she gently scratched her nails along his scalp, watching as his eyes fluttered._

_She wondered if he was dreaming, and if he was, if she held a place there. He’d admitted the night before, exhausted in her arms that he’d not slept in days, that his mind wouldn’t stop turning over and over on itself, tormenting him with the what if’s._

_Strange enough, he and his brother weren’t close in a way that anyone would have predicted such mourning. Asriel was so strong willed and overbearing while Asher, from what she’d heard, had been soft and more submissive, always the proper son in comparison to his wild, elder brother._

_Here in his room in his childhood home, filled with all his things, she imagined for a moment what it might have been like if she’d met him first. His family was respected and his parents known to be kind. She wondered what being his wife would change about her. Would it change anything? Would she have been give the freedoms he promised? Or was that just something he said to all the women he buried himself in?_

_Yet every time he mentioned the things he’d like to do with her, the adventures they could embark on, the spark they could set to the world, she could see the sincerity burning in his blue orbs and it made the blood in her veins pulse with the endless possibilities._

_But then her ring caught the light and she remembered where she was and who her husband was and how hopeless this entire situation was. Letting her head fall back against the headboard, she sighed and fought down the nausea, the urge to empty her stomach of all the toxins built up there._

_She had to go._

_Eyes back on him, she searched for a way to disentangle from him without waking him. He was sprawled on his belly, arms around her waist, head in her lap._

_Her daemon was already waiting, heels in hand by the door. Holding her breath, she gently eased from beneath him, little by little, slipping the pillow under his head to replace her._

_“M’risa,” he mumbled, but didn’t wake, instead, burying his face deeper._

_At the door, she tugged her dress up her body and took her heels from her daemon before slipping out of the room._

_He gave a gruff growl, his displeasure with her evident without her looking, but he was hardly her greatest concern at the moment as she crept around the corner to peek down the stairs._

_Was she afraid of his mother? Hardly._

_Did she care if Madeline Belacqua knew she’d spent the night consumed by her son? No._

_Was she a bit too hungover and deprived of rational thought to mince words with a distraught, pissed off mother? Absolutely._

_Heels still in hand, she eased down the stairs, keeping watch on the doorways. Why did this house have so many doorways?_

_Her daemon slipped ahead of her and was already in the foyer waiting by the time she reached it._

_“Providing comfort for your friend, again?”_

_Nearly tripping over her feet, her eyes fell closed as she caught herself on the beam along the wall. _

_“Hmm.” She spun on her heel, recovering the mishap rather gracefully if she were scoring herself, smile plastered to her face as she held out her hands. “Well, I couldn’t very well leave without finishing the job, now could I?”_

_Madeline held her gaze a moment longer before glancing up the stairs. However, the wolf didn’t even blink as it stared at her, judgement pouring off the daemon._

_“My son’s in a very vulnerable state.”_

_“Oh?” She shrugged and gave a short laugh. “It slipped my notice what with my petty boredom in effect.”_

_A heavy sigh accompanied Madeline taking a step forward. “You are a faithless woman. Do you care about anything?”_

_The smile on her lips struggled to remain._

_“I’ve been thinking it over and I’ve come to the conclusion that eight months is a very long time to carry on a passionate affair.” Madeline clasped her hands in front of her. “Asriel’s always had all sorts of women on his arm, but never one for quite so long.”_

_“Well,” she replied, more than a little uncomfortable. “Perhaps, the comforts I provide are more to his tastes than most.”_

_Madeline fixed her with a searching gaze and pointedly asked, “I know you’re young, but have you any idea what will happen if your husband should discover this? That not only have you cuckholded him, but that you’re in love with another man?”_

_“In love?” she laughed, the sound filling the foyer. “I know you’re rather older, Madeline, but love doesn’t have to play a factor in the... comforts Asriel and I share.”_

_”I saw you.”_

_”Excuse me?”_

_”Last night. On the docks.” Madeline cocked her head to the side, her eyes steady and calculating, and she felt a sudden spike of uneasy heat swim along her cheeks and chest. “I went down to check on him, but you were already there and I may be older but that certainly permits me the experience in knowing the different between lust and love and I wouldn’t exactly call what I saw... heated.”_

_”Hmm.” She shrugged indifferently. “And why exactly do you think I should care what you would call it?”_

_Madeline didn’t answer. She did, however, move toward the door, her long fingers twisting the knob and pulling it open. “Thorold will take you home, now.”_

_It was a long moment, the contest of wills between them. Her daemon at her feet was waiting impatiently, his teeth bared, showing their displeasure without her consent. In contrast, the wolf sat calmly, as though he could wait all day._

_”I don’t know what you think you know about Asriel and I, but-“_

_”I know that you are married to a powerful, deeply religious man,” Madeline interrupted, voice as easygoing as though she were speaking of the dinner menu. “I know that my son has placed his heart in the hands of a mercilessly pitiless woman who will without a doubt destroy him when this inevitably falls apart.”_

_”That’s a bold claim for someone who assumes we’re in love with each other.”_

_  
Madeline left the door open and took a step toward her as the wolf finally let his first sign of anger out with a growl. “You will leave this house, Marisa, and you will leave my son be. If you love him, or even care for him at all, you will not subject him to the fallout of this scandal.”_

_Rage bubbled beneath the surface. “Asriel belongs to me.”_

_”And who do you belong to, Marisa, hmm?” Madeline swiftly stretched forward to grasp her left hand and jerk it up between them to showcase her wedding ring. “To_ _his man?” Madeline then twisted her hand over so her wrist bent back to reveal the bite mark Asriel had left the night before, ringed red and already bruising. “Or this one?”_

_Snapping her hand back, she felt her control slipping. “That is none-”_

_”I understand what it is to be young and think the world is yours for the taking-”_

_”I assure you, Lady Belacqua,” she cut in sharply with a dangerous tilt of her head. “I know very well how the world works and what I am and am not allowed to take. However, I will not be spoken to like a child who is unaware of the delicate circumstances she’s found herself in. Asriel is my lover, not my child. If you want him to behave like a good little boy, I suggest you speak to him yourself.” She squared her shoulders and smiled, her control snapping back into place. “Though, I must warn you, he’s quite attached and doesn’t take well to the word, ‘no’.”_

_”And when you’re caught or heaven forbid fall pregnant?”_

_A light laugh escaped her as she maneuvered around the woman to the open door. “Let’s not borrow unfounded worry, my lady.” She set her hand on the door knob and turned with an even smile. “Tell Asriel I’ll see him soon.”_

The laughter and music permeating the room became background noise as she detracted from her current party, drawn to a painting off to the right. It wasn’t awe inspiring or a showcase of great talent. However, it was riddled with familiarity.

A sunset over a sparkling river.  
  
  


Taking a few steps toward the piece of art, she felt her breathing falter at the detailed depiction with the signature of her daughter in the right corner and beneath it, a short description.

_My happiest moment is any moment with my family - Lyra Belacqua_

”We mustn’t destroy it,” Oz said, touching the wall as he gazed up at the scene.  
  


The four of them. Sat beneath a tree. With their daemons curled around one another in one silver and orange blur, hardly able to be separated into individual creatures.

”Destroy what?”

Body stiffening, she stood straighter and smoothed a hand down her dress before commenting, “My mother’s here. Did you know that?”

”She may have made a snide comment as she passed me earlier.” He paused beside her and she could feel the tension radiating off him. “Destroy what, Marisa?”

Unable to think of a rational excuse for her words, she deflected, ”We should find Lyra and-“

He caught her arm as she moved to turn away and forced her around to face him. His touch was gentle, but uncompromising as he pulled her close, the feel of his eyes examining her like a scorching flame upon her skin. 

“Look at me.”

Nails digging into his forearms, she swallowed down the urge to dissolve into a mess of emotions and whispered, “I can’t.”

”Why?” He moved to touch her face, but she turned her head and leaned away, eyes falling closed. “My love, please tell me what’s wrong. I can’t stand this.”

Taking a deep breath, she shook her head and finally met his gaze, absorbing the anxiety in his own eyes. “This night is Lyra’s. Please... we’ll discuss it when we get home.”

“Marisa, you can’t expect me to wait,” he urged. “Something happened today. Where did you go?”

“Asriel-“

”Mama, did you see it?”

Plastering a smile to her face, she spun to Lyra with all the brightness she could muster. “It’s beautiful, darling.”

“I’m not very good,” Lyra downplayed, but she could see the pride exuding in the way she bounced on her heels. “But my teacher said I might get better with practice.”

Brushing a few stray, dark hairs over Lyra’s ears, she said, “I already know just where to hang it.”

”You’re going to hang it?” Lyra’s surprise was evident. “In our _house?”_

”Of course, I am,” she laughed. “In the dining room where all our guests can see it.”

Lyra smiled all the more as her eyes shifted behind her and then she became uncharacteristically nervous again. “Do you- Do you like it, father?”

  
“Well...” Asriel took a step around her to study the picture, pausing for so long that Lyra’s eyes had seemed to widen and stick that way as she looked from Asriel to the picture then back again. She looked for all the world like a little girl with every hope and dream she contained laid at her father’s feet while waiting for him to treasure or destroy them. “It has a Belacqua’s name on it.” He smirked as he took Lyra’s hand and kissed it. “So, that makes it a masterpiece.”

Lyra’s big sigh and subsequent giggle made Asriel chuckle as he tapped her nose before straightening up and turning to her, his eyes dancing along her features, his amusement waning as he held out a hand to her. “Is it alright if we go boast of our daughter’s brilliance a while longer?”

  
Lyra looked between them expectantly.

Once again reminding herself of the promise she’d made that this was Lyra’s night, she accepted his hand and allowed him to lead her back into the midst of the laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn’t mean to cliffhanger it when I started this chapter. The reveal of why she’s mad at him was actually the first part of this chapter, but as it goes with writing, it got moved around mid draft as other ideas formed and then it was getting too long to keep editing as one chapter for me lol. 
> 
> I promise I won’t be long between updates. Half of the next chapter is already written and being added to as you read this note!


	25. If only

If anyone were to glance to their party at the moment, they’d see a husband and wife standing side by side, fingers interlocked, shoulders pressed flush, together radiating more elegance and power than should be permitted between two individuals. One might also conclude love and affection to be the cause of their proximity as he occasionally brushed her neck while she whispered in his ear.

But anyone paying strict attention would see a world more in the embodiment of her daemon and Asriel’s. At present, Oz was agitatedly roaming around them, occasionally grunting his restlessness at Stel, who was sitting regally at Asriel’s side while paying him little mind, adjusting her head to look in whatever direction Oz wasn’t in. This, of course, was only furthering his agitation as it was a rare thing indeed for either of them to be ignored.

  
Impatiently shifting from one foot to the other, a small sigh managed to slip over the wall of the not so impenetrable facade she’d had on display for some time now. It would have normally irked her to let such boredom and discontent blatantly show, but she knew the wanna be explorer currently chewing off her and Asriel’s ears didn’t notice in the least bit. Actually, she was fairly certain he couldn’t see her at all past Asriel as every brain cell the lad had seemed to be occupied by the well known explorer he clearly idolized.

For what felt like half an hour, the crisply dressed boy had been hammering on and on and on with questions to which Asriel was answering quite lengthily. If she didn’t know better, she’d accuse her temperamental husband of purposely holding them in place just to spite her for casting off his earlier questions about her mood. There wasn’t any part of her that actually believed he was invested in whatever the star struck boy was rambling on about. If anything, she’d have thought he’d have made an excuse to leave by now on account of his own lack of patience building under the wide eyed curiosity of the boy.  


Once again shifting feet, she pressed into her husband’s side and nudged his shoulder, her free hand sliding along his abdomen to rest inside his jacket where she pinched him through his shirt, hoping he’d take the hint and end the conversation altogether before she strangled one or both of them on the spot. There was only so much energy one person she be allotted to drain.

To be fair, agitation and boredom were at the very least better than how she’d been feeling. As the night had carried on, she’d found herself becoming increasingly more subdued than usual, not caring for the usual pleasantries and idle, small talk which had taken up over half of her life. If circumstances hadn’t shifted to be so grim, she’d have wanted every eye in the building on her and her family, but she just didn’t have the ambition for it this evening.

Instead, she felt weighted down, like the responsibility of everyone’s health and happiness was suddenly on her shoulders and there was no one to help her decide who was permitted to keep it and who should lose it. There was no one to confide in, no one to ask for guidance, and while that had once been far from unusual, she’d grown quite used to having a partner she could talk to without fear of reprobate; someone she could confide the ugliest, darkest truths of herself with and never be treated unequally.

A listless laugh drew her eyes to her husband and rather than ponder over what was being said that might have caused him to feign amusement, she studied his clean shaven profile, inhaling the spicy aftershave permeating the air between them. The streaks of gray in the coal black of his hair spoke of the time which had passed since she’d first set eyes upon him all those years ago, but his jaw was still strong, his crystal gaze still steady; still entrancing and full of power.  


A recollection came to her of their introduction, of the moment their eyes had clicked and her purpose altered. He’d been the one who approached her and it hadn’t been to ask her name as others had nor had he ever acknowledged the gold band around her finger which had signified her worth at that time of her life. In fact, it hadn’t been him who had spoken first at all.

_“You’re the one.”_

_Like a fish to a lure, the deep, feminine voice reeled her gaze around and down to be immediately struck by the gracefulness with which the leopard circled her, golden eyes as penetrating as the African sun._

_More than a little offset at being approached by a daemon, she titled her head and smiled thinly, eyes narrowing at the way the leopard had snuck up on her, a very uncharacteristic quality her own daemon often saw coming. “Sorry?”_

_”We’ve been searching for you all evening.”_

_An even deeper voice cut through her confusion and it was in the instant her eyes met his that she was punctured straight to her soul._

_“Your research is the subject of much conversation.” The glass in his hand found a tray as his blue eyes seared her flesh and his broad form paused an inappropriate amount of space from her. ”It only took a few minutes of speaking with Collin to conclude the subject was quite beyond his comprehensible reach.”_

_Taken aback by his sudden proximity, she heard an unprecedentedly nervous laugh escape her as she glanced toward the room’s center, where the man she’d been forced to allow credit for her paper was being clapped on the back and congratulated._

_Then, before she could collect herself, her fingers were caught between his blunt ones, the bold gesture too swift for her to object as her wide eyes swiveled back to his. “What are you-”_

_“Stel recognized the familiar smell and I recognized these.” He lifted a thick brow as he inspected the tiny punctures and burns at the tips of her fingers like they might hold the location to the Garden of Eden. “Collin is nowhere near capable of actually sitting and drafting a paper to be published, much less one as meticulous as yours.”_

_Struck momentarily dumb, she could only stare as he bent to kiss the tips of her fingers, his gaze rising and never releasing hers as he went so far as to nudge her ring to the side and kiss her knuckle._

_“I’m afraid I covet the name that belongs on that podium.” He grinned and the spark it sent through her had her daemon’s nails scratching her ankle in warning as he careened away from the leopard’s probing snout. “I should also like to hear the authentic truth of how your theory originated before they watered it down to fit their narrative.”_

  
  
He’d been so beautiful, it had hurt to look upon him. Sometimes, even now, it felt as though she’d go blind from staring into his burning gaze. Almost unwillingly, since that night, she’d never really been able to truly depart from it. He’d captured her soul and held it hostage like a greedy child would its favorite toy; his hold relentless; compromising whatever was necessary to keep her for himself.

Unlike that night, though, this evening, Asriel had yet to let go of her hand since capturing it and she had a sinking feeling he was anxious she might up and run away from him. To be fair, she did have a long history of doing just that and had felt the same urge more than once in just the last hour.

It was also apparent that he was torturing himself with questions over her behavior and there was a large part of her which was pleased with it considering what she now knew about his misdeeds and how deeply they ran. If only he knew what she did; how his calculated schemes had caught up with him and he was only suffering the start of what would be his many due consequences.

“I didn’t think he’d ever shut up,” she muttered, glancing about the room in search of Lyra as they finally began to meander, her leading as Asriel held fast at her side. “I’m fairly positive he’s in love with you.”

”At least, someone is.”

The snide way he grunted it saw her sharply pressing her nails into his palm, drawing a growl from Stelmaria. “Don’t be petulant.”

”How else should I be when I have an apparent noose around my neck?” A cutting glare was thrown her way. “For reasons still unknown.”

”I imagine if you think on it long enough, something should come to mind.”

”For fuck’s sake, Marisa,” he hissed under his breath, tightening his hold and twirling her to him so she was forced to brace against his chest as he cagily breathed over her. “What have I done that could possibly be so bad?”

Meaning to disentangle from him, she shoved at his chest but soon found his hold too firm and quickly bit, “Asriel, you’re going to make a scene.”

”I don’t care.” He grasped her jaw between his fingers and forced her to meet his eyes which were flickering in a near frenzy between hers. “Look at me. Do you think I care about any of these people or what they think?” His body shuddered against hers as he sucked down a ragged breath. For all the world, he looked like a man ready to burst from his cage. “You’re the only person who matters to me, Marisa, and you’ve been avoiding me all evening.”

A ridiculous sounding laugh escaped her. “I’ve barely left your side all evening.” To emphasize her point, she held up their sweaty tangle of hands. “You’ve basically been holding me hostage.” 

”That’s not what I-” He stood straighter, shoulders rolling back, and huffed an expletive or two as he stared at her with a locked jaw. “I’ve had enough of this game you’re playing at. It’s time to leave.”

Breath coming nearly as quick as his, she tried to lean back to no avail, not that it would matter if she could as Stel had Oz by the tail, weighted down by her massive, silver paws.

“Marisa,” he pressed, looking every bit the wild beast everyone thought he was. “This is no longer a debate. We’re fetching Lyra and leaving.”

When he made to move, his eyes flickering about like a mad man, likely in search of their daughter, she took his cheek in her palm and forced him to return his gaze to her, attempting to gentle it by reflecting softness in her own. “Please, don’t. She deserves to have a nice night.”

”I don’t-“

”Care? Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, my love,” she snapped as another bout of confusion washed over his face.  


With a deep, steadying sigh, she smoothed her hands over his lapels, trying to distract from his little rapid breaths as well as the shakiness of her own hands.

Being rough with Asriel wouldn’t work. He’d only be rough in return. The only way for this to go was to reassure him, to lull him into a sense of calmness, let him have a little control before she broke his world in two.

”I know I’m being short with you,” she admitted, sweeping invisible lint from his jacket. “I don’t want to be. I just...”

”Look at me.” He cupped her neck again and when she met his gaze, she found his eyes exuding panic. “It’s different.” He ran his thumb along her jaw and the tremble that ran through him made her heart flutter. “You’re looking at me differently.”

”Asriel-”

“Whatever it is, whatever you think I’ve done-“

At her wits end, she snapped, ”It’s not what I think, Asriel, it’s what I know.” Biting her tongue, she took in his darting eyes and emphasized, “I _know_, Asriel.”

There was a moment that felt like an eternity where he stared at her unblinkingly, the wheels turning over themselves as he wrestled with her words.

  
However, before she could determine if he’d understood the gravity of them, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her mother just as she came to a stop beside them, her eyes focused entirely on the places Asriel was gripping her.

The woman was nothing if not consistent in her meddling.

“Might I have a word, Marisa?” Diana’s eyes tracked Asriel as she spoke; a certain loathing barely concealed there. “Privately?”

An agitated noise punctuated Asriel’s reply, “Might you go fuck yourself?” He waved a hand off to the side. “Your choice for publicly or privately.”

”Asriel, don’t-” She moved to retract her hand, but Asriel apparently wasn’t of the mind to let her go, his fingers curling around hers firmly enough to cut off all blood flow.

  
“You are a vulgar dog,” Diana spat, face flushing. “Have you no propriety or sense of respect for your wife?”

”Propriety?” he repeated, eyes wild and eyebrows practically in his hairline as he took a step forward while placing a hand to his chest. “_You_ want to accuse _me_ of having no propriety?” He tilted his head dangerously. “No respect for her? After everything you’ve done? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

”Asriel,” she urged more firmly, quickly laying her hand over the one against his chest. When his eyes flashed back to her, there was such unbridled rage simmering in the seas of blue that she nearly took a step back from the stormy depths. However, rather than being swept into the chaos, she once again softened and cupped his cheek with a whisper, “Go find Lyra. When I’m done with _her,_ we’ll leave.”

  
  
With a dart of his eyes to her mother, his nostrils flared and she could feel the muscles in his cheek flaring, prompting her to insistently urge, “Look at me.”

He did and she ached at the emotion whirling behind his gaze. Pure misery resided there and she at once wanted to sink into it, to wrap it around herself, and have her way with it. “I need you to go to our daughter. I promise I’ll be right behind you.”

“Marisa-“

It was nothing to lean up and steal the resistance right off his lips with a brush of hers and even less effort to sap the fight right out of him with a second pass. Then, his hand had slipped from hers and both were stuffed in his pockets, his entire demeanor shifting to tight lipped standoffishness that might otherwise be called brooding.  
  


Not waiting for him to be the first to move, she turned and gave a curt nod at her mother to follow her further away from the thickest throngs of people, flexing her cramped fingers to restart blood flow.

“That man is-”

”I’ve had a very long day,” she interrupted, holding up a hand to halt what she was sure would be a repeat of old insults toward Asriel. “I’m not in the mood to mince words with you.”

”Yes, it seemed as though you and your lover were having a bit of a spat. Hardly seemed like the love story you’ve been spinning.”  
  


“My _husband_ is none of your business,” she snapped, eyes blazing. “Nor, for that matter, is my daughter.”

An exasperated breath escaped her mother as she waved her comments off. “Must we always be at odds, Marisa? What have I done now? Have I stolen too much of your air? Will you ask me to return that as well?”

  
  
“At odds?” She managed not to laugh, but she did cast her mother an incredulous look. “You mean like when you told me I was an unlovable deviant and unfit mother?”

The sarcasm cast her mother’s features with displeasure.

”It’s possible tensions were high and things were said that shouldn’t have been.” Diana paused and took a glance around the room and for a moment she seemed absolutely lost for words. “I know you don’t want me here, Marisa, but I assure you, difficult as it may be to believe, I am not here to torment you. I’ve only come because I... I miss seeing Lyra.”

”You miss her?” she echoed before taking a deep breath and rubbing her temple. “Maybe you can see her again eight years from now after I’ve made up the time I lost.”

”I did not take that girl from you, Marisa.” Diana’s lips pursed as she eyed a few passerby’s, who’d glanced their way at her outburst. “You left her... more than once. Now, I’m not here to say I didn’t play any part in that, but you came right into my home where Lyra was perfectly happy and stole her away with barely a word to either of us about it.”

“She’s my daughter,” she snapped, feeling herself begin to flush with all the things she was holding within. “I didn’t need your permission. She always belonged with me.”

“Still... it was a sudden and unexpected change... for all of us.” Diana swiped at her sleeve distractedly and she knew it was a ploy to buy time to once again look for words. “I don’t enjoy change and now Lyra...” Her mother huffed as she pointed to where Lyra was standing with Asriel two dozen or so feet away. “She’ll barely speak to me, Marisa. I approached her earlier and she all but growled at me.”

Nerves fraying, she said, “Likely because she knows what sort of mother you really are.”

There was a tension that visibly entered her mother’s presence as she squared her shoulders. ”So, you’ve painted me the villain, then?”

”It wasn’t all that difficult to do,” she quipped. “Considering you _were_ the villain of my childhood.”

”Marisa, please don’t be dramatic.”

  
It was that realization again, the one that reminded her that her mother actually cared about Lyra, that she had gone out of her way to take her in when, for the entirety of her own childhood, it had seemed as though her mother had despised everything about her; like she was an infection she couldn’t quite rid herself of, that made her react.  
  


”I hurt her,” she abruptly admitted, consciously forcing herself not to stab her palms with her nails. “She made me angry and I lashed out.” Biting her lip, she met her mother’s eyes. “In an instant, I became the exact same villain to her that you always were to me.”

To see her mother fazed by anything was rare and this was clearly nothing unexpected. Diana blinked at her before shrugging, the lizard on her shoulder flicking his tail. “Lyra can be very obstinate; a trait she inherited doubly over. I’m sure she deserved it.”

”Deserved it?” she echoed with a frown. “I was so worried I was like you; a controlling dictator eager to attack her child over any little misstep and I think that’s one of the reasons I let you convince me I was unfit to keep her in the first place. I thought... I’ll hurt her. I’ll _damage_ her.” She shook her head, the sourness of those feelings far from what she wanted consuming her. “But I was wrong because... the moment I realized what I’d done, immediate remorse struck me. _Remorse,”_ she repeated with a forced laugh. “There are very few things in my life I have ever felt remorse for and it made me wonder... Do you ever feel remorse, mother?”

“Remorse?” Her mother repeated as though the word was foreign to her.

”It hurt me to hurt my child, my only daughter.” The ache in her chest was making her eyes burn. “Did it ever hurt you... to hurt me?”

With another glance about the room, her mother blinked in a few quick successions. “It hardly matters, Marisa. It is what it is.”

”I want an answer!” she snapped before standing straighter. “I _need_ an answer for why you could be so good to Lyra when you treated me...” A burning began at the very center of her face. “You treated me like I was the most wicked thing... like I was absolutely unlovable.”

Diana looked back to her, her eyes softening somewhat. It was so foreign a gesture that she was nearly knocked back by it. “As I told you before, I did what I thought was best. While you and Lyra bare many similarities, you differ in the fact that you were an angry, ungrateful girl. You may feel remorse and compassion now, but as a child you were downright hateful, Marisa.”

”Perhaps, having a parent, _any_ parent, to show me something other than pain would have changed that.”

  
  
“Perhaps.” Diana smiled grimly with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But as I said, there’s nothing that can be done about it now.”  
  


She sucked in a resigned breath through a single nod as the burn along her eyes steadily increased. “So, you don’t, then? Feel remorse?”

“I feel proud that I had a hand in creating you,” Diana admitted. “While you have made astronomically appalling mistakes and, I agree very little with your choice in a husband, I know that I raised a strong, driven woman who has accomplished great things. Why should I feel remorse for that, Marisa? If it’s gotten you to where you are?”

”Because I was your _child_.” There was an ache in her heart she didn’t know she’d had; one created by her mother and left for decades to fester and scab over, full to the brim with insecurities and questions; so many questions. “I have no doubt that Lyra will grow to be as equally strong and driven as I am. That’s not going to come from being a tyrant in her life, but from mine and Asriel’s love for her.” 

“Love? Of course,” her mother scoffed. “How could I forget that you’ve traded ambition, your opportunity to leave your mark on the world, to be remembered, so you can coddle an egocentric man and his hellish offspring.”  
  


“Perhaps that’s your problem when it comes to understanding me, mother,” she said, haughtily spinning on her heel to face the woman again. “You’ve never been properly fucked by a man who knows what he’s doing; by a man who lives and breathes to lay his heart in your hands and his life at your feet.”

Unimpressed, Diana flicked her wrist in the direction of where Asriel was standing with Lyra. ”I see that man’s crudeness has further rubbed off on you.”

”Better his than yours or _your_ husband’s.” She pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth and measured her next words, making sure to speak slowly enough to allow them to sink into her mother’s thick skull. “I would trade every ounce of the ambition you claim to have instilled within me in exchange for that vulgar man and our hellish children.”

”I need not be informed of that. You certainly enjoy playing dutiful wife to him better than you did poor Edward. That much is clear.”  
  
  
At the mention of her late husband, Oz hissed at her mother’s daemon.

“Poor Edward,” she repeated, wondering if her mother actually thought that would move her. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’d have more sympathy for the man who tried to murder my child over the one who actually loves me.”  
  
  


“It’s not sympathy I have for that weak man, Marisa,” her mother scolded in exasperation. “You threw away your entire life for a fling.”

”How can you still not understand?” Absolute confusion swelled in her chest. “Asriel is the most jealous, possessive man I’ve ever met. He lashes out and, yes, he’s vulgar and completely maddening, but it was never a fling that drew me to him. It was the fact that he saw me when no one else did.” She stuttered over the admittance, her eyes drifting to her husband. “He saw me.”

  
“And you think I don’t see you, Marisa?”

”How could you? You put me in a box and expected me to never change. You expected me to be ungrateful and uncompassionate. To be like _him_.” She shook her head. “Instead of being my mother and teaching me another way, I had to wait until I was knee deep in an affair to learn what love was.”

“This has clearly devolved into an irrational conversation.” 

“Why? Because you can’t comprehend it?” She laughed and blinked back the wave threatening to pour down her cheeks. “You have no idea who I am. That little girl you molded, that monster you created... I’m not her anymore.”

The lizard shifted in what she could only describe as discomfort as Diana brought herself up to her full height. “If I must be the villain of your story, then so be it. All I ask is that you don’t paint me the villain of Lyra’s.”

Flexing her jaw, a thin smile graced her lips. “I trust Lyra to determine that for herself.”

”I’ll accept that.” Diana nodded to the others in the room as she wrapped her shawl around her arms. “Now, as delightful as this has been, I really must find my escort. It’s getting rather late.”

  
A good four steps were taken before her mother paused for a beat and turned back to her, her gray eyes more weary than she recollected, made especially obvious by the way she hesitated, mouth opening and closing with no sound emerging. It unnerved her enough to shift her weight.

”From all the accounts I’ve heard, Lyra is doing very well here in spite of her rough beginning.” Diana’s eyes were set off to the side of her. “If you deem it acceptable for her to hear...” Gray shifted to meet her. “Tell her I’m proud of her.”

Diana gave a final curt nod and started away, leaving her to digest the remark, which to most would have been expected. However, to her, it left a bitter taste in her mouth.  
  


Proud? Her mother was proud of her bastard daughter she’d once claimed could never be spoken of again? If it weren’t her own life, she’d think it hilarious.

“Perhaps, she can’t admit her regret.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, watching the retreating woman plaster a smile as she spoke with an older man, his thick silver hair combed to one side. “She made her bed. She can lie in it.”

“Denial is our worst color, Isa.” Oz grunted. “Think of how difficult it was for us to admit we wrong about Lyra and Asriel.”

“Asriel was not an error,” she corrected, gaze finding itself fixed on the man she’d permitted herself to love. “We were right to hold him at arm’s length.”

”That’s not true,” Oz pressed. “Whatever his motives, we’re better for having him. He gave us Lyra back. He gave us Lynx. He healed _us_. You can’t tell her he saved us then change your mind.”

”Enough,” she snapped, glaring at Oz, who flinched and looked away from her.

Sucking in a deep breath, she rubbed her temple and attempted to regain some semblance of control. If she unraveled now, she’d never make it through tonight.

”You’re going to destroy us,” he muttered as he began moving away from her. “I’ll never forgive you if we lose them.”

”_Don’t_.”

The sudden boldness of him ignoring her and trotting toward Asriel, going so far as to wrap around his ankles, had her chest heaving as her husband’s gaze swept to the daemon then to her.

Blinking back the burn in her eyes, she disengaged from the stare and smoothed her hands down her dress. Conflict within herself had always been present, but to have him take the lead from her, to make decisions she wouldn’t approve of, to outwardly defy her...

Snapping up a flute of champagne from a passing tray, she tilted it back and consumed the entire thing in an attempt to loosen the strain in her muscles. If she became any more tense, she was going to turn to stone.

  
“You’re Lyra’s mother, aren’t you?”

Caught off guard by the French accent, she turned to find a petite, dark haired woman, a good head shorter than herself and perhaps a few years younger, awkwardly standing behind her. 

“Yes.” Shifting moods quickly, she adorned a bright smile. “I am.”

The woman returned the gesture timidly as she wrung her bony hands, eye contact limited to brief flickers of green eyes. “Sorry to bother you, but I hoped you might have a moment. I’m Rene Cummings. I recently married Lord Arthur Cummings.”

”I recall talk of him remarrying,” she commented, a little wary of where this was going. Lord Cummings was well known for his hunting and gambling, but more so for his long time mistress and bastard daughter, something his late wife had finally escaped rumor of through her recent passing, leaving Lord Cummings to marry said mistress. The man shamelessly moving his new wife and their illegitimate child into the home he shared with his legitimate daughter had been the talk of every gossip circle for weeks. “He has a daughter who attends here, doesn’t he?” Her eyes wandered the room. “A few years older than Lyra.”

Worry that Lyra had done something to the girl filled her. The last thing she needed was a spat right in the middle of the school.

”Yes, Mabel.” Rene shifted and she noted the discomfort with which she did so. “But it was my daughter, Marcella, I wished to speak of. Well, really, I wanted to thank you.”

Perplexed, she pursed her lips and tilted her head. “For...?”

”Marcella has had such a difficult time transitioning into a school like this.” Rene’s eyes swept the high ceiling and ornate walls like they were foreign entities. “To be honest, neither of us are accustomed to this lifestyle.”

“Hmm. I’m sure she’ll adjust-“  
  


”Oh, but she has thanks to Lyra.” Rene’s face lit and she couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the woman was with her elegant gold dress and dark hair up off her shoulders. Her stature was appalling and her demeanor too timid, but it wasn’t difficult to see why Arthur had strayed. “Marcella was so lonely and Lyra made a point of sitting with her at lunch when no one else would for reasons- Well, I won’t go into that.” The woman bowed her head and laid a hand to her heart. “I’m so grateful for your daughter. She’s helped Marcella come right out of her shell and now she actually looks forward to coming to school.”

  
Genuine surprise filled her as she took this other mother in, who was practically near to tears as she bragged over Lyra.

”It’s credit to you no doubt,” Rene said, touching her arm. “Kindness like Lyra has shown my daughter is rare in my experience. People can be so cruel and... I’m simply grateful to you for instilling such a quality in her.”

  
Blinking a few times, she hesitated over how to respond; the woman’s belief that she might be responsible for Lyra’s generosity and kindness taking her slightly aback. While she had taught Lyra many things, she’d never taught her to go out of her way for anyone else. It wasn’t a quality she herself was a master of. “I’m... so glad.”

Rene was quick to excuse herself afterward, the woman’s awkwardness trailing after her like a shadow in such a place as this.

When she was a good distance away, she took a few deep breaths and frowned. Lyra had certainly never mentioned any of this. Inserting herself between a set of feuding sisters was something she would think her daughter’s overwhelming tendency toward storytelling might have covered.

More than that, though, she felt her breathing speed up a little at the thought of the stir it would cause. She could practically hear the rumors, now; two bastards joining forces to pollute and sully the prestige of St. Catherine’s.

It was then that she found her eyes back on Asriel, who was now a dozen or so feet away. He was engaged in conversation with a small group and both he and Lyra were smiling brightly, the three daemons all at their feet, wrapped up in each other.

Oz’s dark eyes met hers, his blue face the calm against her rising panic. Then, like he had a direct link to them, Asriel turned to look at her, his smile fading just slightly and she tried to imagine what she looked like, but couldn’t steady any thoughts amidst her quickening breathing.

Minute by minute, the delicate control she so valued was slipping further and further away.

Asriel gave a half step toward her, but the quick shake of her head brought him up short and then within a dozen or so heartbeats, she was pushing open the stall door and emptying her stomach in the middle of St. Catherine’s first floor bathroom.

The taste along the back of her teeth was bitter, repugnant. It was a physical representation of how deeply she’d sunk into the abyss of everything being thrown at her.

A life of sin had caught up with her again and this was her price, her penance. A decade of loneliness hadn’t been enough. Her crimes were too high, her regret too late.

With a stuttering breath, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and let the tension flow from her muscles as she attempted to regain herself.

Asriel had always been her greatest desire. She’d wanted him as she’d never wanted anything before and now... now he was her greatest downfall... _again_.

When her chest became steady enough, she clutched the walls and found her feet, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress, sorting herself out.

”Isa?”

The sound of Oz’s gravelly voice sparked a fire in her belly. How dare he return to her now? When she was at her lowest? However, when she turned, she was met with more than her own daemon.

”Are you alright?”

Brushing past him, she slapped at the faucet and buried her hands under the gentle stream. “This is the ladies’ restroom, Asriel.”

Another puff of air reminded her of the disgusting taste on her tongue, prompting her to cup a handful of water to her lips, swish it around, and spit it back out.

”Here.”

Briefly meeting his eyes in the mirror, she glanced down to his outstretched hand, a tin of mints opened toward her.

With a sigh, she dried her hands and turned around, taking one of the mints and popping it into her mouth, the peppermint overwhelming the bitterness.

Deed done, Asriel shifted his feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets along with the tin, his eyes once again studying her. “Are you sick?”

Shaking her head, she turned back to the mirror and checked her makeup, wiping her thumb under her bottom lip to catch the smudged lipstick.

”Are you pregnant?”

That did earn a laugh. Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake? For her preventative measures to fail her just as everything else was. “Not as far as I know.”

”Marisa.”

”I’m fine.” She forced herself to smile into the mirror and cleared her throat. “I-”

  
The door swung open, a young girl about Lyra’s age hurrying through only to abruptly stop, eyes wide at seeing Asriel.

Before this became a question, she cleared the space between them and took his hand with a tsk. “I’m afraid you’ve stumbled through the wrong door. I’ll show you where to go.”

The girl watched them until the door swung back into place.

”I’m sure Lyra will appreciate this rumor.” She rolled her eyes and cast him an annoyed look. “It’ll be your place to explain it.”

”Will I have that opportunity?”

It was she who came up short this time, her eyes darting to him in surprise. “What?”

The air between them thickened as he kept his gaze on the hall of people ahead. “Is that not where this is going, Marisa?” Stel brushed Oz off as Asriel let go of her hand and took a few steps ahead before turning to her, his eyes dark as they flickered over her face. “You’ve decided I’m guilty of something and you’re hardly the forgiving type. Depending upon the severity, it’s not difficult to imagine I’ll be shunned for some time.”

Defiance crept over her as she squared herself, gaze icing over. ”Are you guilty, Asriel?”

His boots scuffed the floor as he looked down and nodded, his hands delving into his pockets. For the briefest of moments, she felt her heart falter at the thought that he might confess right here.

”I’m guilty of plenty of things,” he admitted as a heavy sigh drew his shoulders in before he relaxed them back and returned his gaze to her. “But nothing I regret.”

His eyes swept the length of her one more time and then he turned and disappeared into the throngs of people.

”It doesn’t matter how it began,” Oz said, jumping to the bench at her left. “Nothing’s changed.”

”Everything has changed!” she snapped, eyes blazing to his. “He betrayed us. You heard him. He doesn’t regret it.”

”How?” The daemon pressed, pointing where Asriel had stood. “He gave us everything we ever wanted. Without him, we would still be drowning. We’d still be alone.”

”Everything he gave us has been tainted with lies.” She shook her head, nails finding the familiar imprints in her palms. “None of this was for us. He did it for himself.”

”Isa-”

  
Her nails found the scruff of his neck and jerked him to the floor with a growl, ignoring the pain shooting across her own body as the daemon whimpered at the jolt. “We’re leaving.”

* * *

Among the group she found Lyra in was a teacher, a recent transfer from another school who was younger and likely knew little other than gossip regarding Lyra’s background. Ms. Kingsley was in the midst of explaining how it had taken a while of adjustment, but that Lyra had grown to be quite a contribution to her class, making her feel the most welcome of all the students.

”And she’s never shy about giving her opinion,” Ms. Kingsley added with a wink at Lyra. “After listening to the lot of you, I can see she has come by that trait rather honestly.”

  
For the first time since joining them, Lyra’s giggle brought a genuine smile to her lips as she reached out to swipe a loose curl back. At the touch, her daughter looked up at her with a bright grin, her cheeks flushed from all the excitement, before turning back to the attention she was having heaped upon her.

Lyra. Her beautiful little girl.

Recollection of her purpose here tonight washed over her. She’d promised herself she would keep the coming chaos at the back of her mind, reserving every ounce of attention she could muster solely for her daughter.

While she was quite ready to leave, she forced herself to relax.

  
Eventually, more stories began being passed around and it didn’t take long for Lyra’s mischievousness to begin being traded once a few girls Lyra had, once again, never mentioned other than in passing joined in. Apparently, she was considerably more liked than even she knew and it filled her with an oddly conflicted feeling. While she was proud Lyra appeared to be finding her niche and making friends, she was also worried by the secrecy of the whole thing as well the quality of the girls.

The girls and their parents seemed more along the lines of charity cases rather than the usual sort one would expect to find at a school like St. Catherine’s. For the briefest moment, she couldn’t help but wonder if Lyra was purposefully surrounding herself with people like this out of spite.

Then, of course, she remembered who Lyra’s best friend was and came to the conclusion that Lyra’s horrible taste had extended beyond servants. Apparently, Lyra’s niche would include anyone and everyone.

“You’re being awful quiet, Asriel,” Madeline commented softly, touching his cheek with the back of her hand as someone else took over the conversation. “Are you ill? It is a bit stuffy in here.”

“No,” he answered, voice cracking before he cleared his throat and forced a chuckle as Stel’s long tail curled around his calves, stroking him comfortingly. “I’m just listening.”

  
A lie if she ever heard one. His quiet and sullen distraction had been clear as day to her, so she wasn’t shocked his mother had picked up on his demeanor as well. Asriel was skilled in many things, but hiding his feelings was hardly his best.

”What have I told you about lying to your mother?” Madeline scolded with a swat to his chest while leaning forward to catch her eyes. “Marisa, what’s he done, now?”

Asriel grunted what sounded like a disapproving retort, but it was lost in the laughter of those around them. “Bedsides being a mischievous Belacqua? Nothing out of the usual.”

While Madeline laughed, like clockwork, he glanced at her and looked so searchingly into her being that she felt plundered and laid bare. This was why she avoided his eyes so often. The intensity of them was entirely too much.  
  
  


Unable to maintain his stare, she looked away and tried to focus on the conversation. However, when his hand slipped around hers, she caved and allowed herself to give into the urgent press of his fingers.

“Darling.” She leaned down to whisper into Lyra’s ear. “You should begin to say goodbye. It’s getting late.”

Unsurprisingly, Lyra put up a mild fight over having to leave, which should have annoyed her given Lyra tried to get out of the entire event in the first place, but she managed to maintain her patience well enough to get her daughter on the move without incident.

Asriel moved ahead of them to alert Thorold to bring the car around and when they were all settled within, Lyra immediately began rambling on about the evening, her disappointment over leaving overrun by her excitement from so much attention and sugary beverages.

She listened with half an ear as the other half was drowned out with the internal war shunting all the blood around in her head. Resting her chin atop her fist, she pressed her temple to the cool glass and watched the countryside pass by through the light puffs of fog spreading over the window from her breath.

Dread began to take hold. The knowledge that their time of pretending was coming to an end snapped her eyes closed. Anger and sadness warred beneath her breastbone, fighting for dominance with bouts of panic intermixing enough to have her pinching at her wrist.

”Lyra,” Asriel finally chided, catching one of their daughter’s flailing hands and setting it in her rumpled, green lap. “You need to start winding down.”

Lyra grumbled under her breath as she fell back with folded arms and a sour expression. The pout brought a small smile to her lips as she set aside herself and leaned over to kiss the top of her head, prompting Lyra to loosen and lean into her side.

For a moment, she contented herself with combing her fingers through Lyra’s hair, admiring how long it now was and how it curled at the ends in a manner similar to her own. During their time together, Lyra has grown so much that she felt herself wishing she could freeze her, keep her little and innocent, steal back the time stolen from them. It was cruel to consider she’d only have a handful of years to really mother her child before the sinful ugliness of the world would settle her soul and pollute her purity.

It was then that her thoughts began to turn over and consider just how much of the world’s depravity was already present in her daughter’s life. The cruelty of the girls at the school, passed down to them from their own parents was an obstacle Lyra was already having to hurtle.

Finally, her curiosity won out and she found herself bringing up the question marks she had surrounding Lyra’s duplicity about her friends. It was one thing to discover Asriel’s secrets and quite another to discover Lyra’s. Deception seemed to be at the lead of their family traits of late.

”I spoke with Marcella’s mother.” She tilted her head to just in time to see Lyra’s eyes widen. “She said you spent some time with her daughter.”

Lyra shrugged, her indifference causing her to frown and inquire, “Is that not true?”

“I sat with her at lunch a few times. It’s not a big deal.”

Wondering if she was imaging Lyra’s avoidance, she glanced over at Asriel to find him watching Lyra just as intently before noticing her and giving his own indifferent shrug. Perhaps, she’d over thought the whole ordeal and it hadn’t actually been a big thing, but then again Rene had seemed so moved...

”Why are you downplaying it?” she pressed. “Rene seemed to think you and Marcella are friends, yet I’ve never even heard you mention her. For that matter, I’ve never heard you mention any of those other girls.”

Pantalaimon gave a squeak as he shifted to his familiar ermine form and scurried from the seat back to Lyra’s lap then all the way up to her opposite shoulder, closest to Asriel. It was low, but she could just hear him murmuring at Lyra’s ear.

”Don’t be angry with me.”

How many times would she be shocked tonight?

Quickly combing her fingers through Lyra’s hair, she tilted forward in an attempt to see Lyra’s eyes, which she was surprised to find brimming with tears.

”Darling, why would I be angry? Her mother said you were extraordinarily kind to Marcella.”

”Because... I know you want me to fit in.” Lyra was quick to wipe at her eyes before the tears fell, swiping at them as though they had offended her. “And I didn’t want you to be embarrassed.”

A handkerchief materialized before them accompanied by Asriel clearing his throat.

Lyra snatched it, but instead of wiping her face, she balled it in her fists.

”Lyra, I assure you, I am not embar-“

”Everyone got used to me and I was starting to fit in better and- and you were proud of me because Jane and I get along, but I just couldn’t stand it, mama, what they were saying about her.” Lyra threw her head back against the seat. “I had to show Mabel that she couldn’t make _everyone_ be cruel to her.”

There was the barest warning at the back of her skull that came just a little too late to stop her question of what the girls were saying.

”They were calling her a bastard and telling her she didn’t belong there. Mabel’s worse than Sally ever could be.” Pan whimpered on Lyra’s shoulder as he curled around her neck. “She was all alone.” Lyra closed her eyes as a ragged sob choked her. “I don’t understand how they could be so mean to her. She’s so shy and-and she never does anything to anyone. She can’t help what her parents did.”

Mouth gone completely dry, she swallowed against the thickness which felt like her throat closing off. With her daughter dissolving right in front of her, she considered what she should say, what she _could_ say. Clearly, Lyra correctly surmised she’d disapprove and, if she was honest with herself, she would’ve. She’d have told Lyra to steer clear of the whole scandal, let the hammer fall against this new girl so people would forget the slurs they’d once whispered against her. She’d have told her to seize the opportunity to step up and out of the corner she’d unfairly been placed in because of her origins.

Then, she was struck with Rene’s words and wondered, who _was_ Lyra’s tendency to show kindness a credit to? Not her or Asriel and certainly not her own mother. How had something so pure and good come from her own selfish flesh?

“We’re very proud of you.” When Lyra looked up, it wasn’t to her, who was still silent as a grave, but Asriel. “It’s very difficult to sacrifice something you desperately want in exchange for doing the right thing, especially when it’s not even your fight.” His hands seemed so large as they took the wrinkled handkerchief from Lyra and lifted it to her cheeks, dabbing at the tear streaks. “There are very few people capable of that, Lyra. Most people are only out for themselves. It takes true courage to choose to stand up for those weaker than you.”  
  


Lyra gave a small smile before hesitantly glancing at her, fingers twisting the material of the dress in her lap. It was then that she felt Asriel’s fingers brush the back of her neck, drawing her eyes to find him with an expectant look, one that practically demanded her to pick up where he’d left off and encourage rather than destroy.

A noisy breath escaped her as she brushed the backs of her knuckles over Lyra’s puffy cheeks. ”Our origins don’t define us, Lyra.” Thoughts of her own mother surfaced and she continued with a firm resolve. “It’s what we do with what we have and I just want you to have everything you need to be whoever you want to be.”

Lyra nodded, but it was more mechanical than anything.

”I’m not at all angry with you for being kind to Marcella.” A necessary lie. “I just wish you’d have thought you could share it with me.”

”I wanted to,” Lyra admitted softly, still fidgeting. “But I- you get so mad about my being friends with Roger and the Gyptian’s. I thought you’d tell me to stay away from Marcella. So, I thought if you didn’t know, I wouldn’t get in trouble when I kept her as a friend anyway.”

On the spot, she stared at the back of the seat, wondering what to even say. For some reason, she couldn’t conjure a defense. However, a voice at the back of her mind managed to break through and remind her of how her own mother had stifled her relationships.

“It’s not that, Lyra,” Asriel said, drawing both their gazes. “You’ll be a woman one day and your mother knows how difficult it is to be accepted. I know it’s not fair, but your future opportunities might depend on who you know and what people think of you.”

”Well, if they think poorly of me because of who I’m friends with, then I don’t want their opportunities.”

”A courageous statement, but what if one day Sally Manford or Mabel Cummings marries a man who controls what you love... like your desire to explore?” Asriel tilted Lyra’s chin. “We want you to grow to be whatever you want to be and sometimes that requires a little forethought. That’s all your mother is trying to teach you, understand?”

Lyra’s nod was hesitant. “You don’t worry about what people say. You do whatever you want.”

The hesitation on Asriel’s part had her eyes on him alone, wondering how he’d explain his own privileges. While she’d tried to impress it upon Lyra how much harder she’d have to work due to her sex and why it was so important to think before she acted, she often felt the girl only tolerated her lessons without the slightest belief that what she said was actually true.

“You’re right. It’s an injustice that you’re not allowed the same path as I. This world is... it’s a worse place for not permitting someone as bold and courageous as you to shine on your own merits.” He titled her chin up, his eyes softening in a manner he’d rarely permitted anyone other than her. “But you must promise to remember this. You’re extraordinary, Lyra Belacqua. Whatever others may imply throughout you life, that is what you hold onto. Do not ever let anyone belittle or hinder you from making your own path.”

While Lyra seemed to chew the words, she sat quietly, watching Asriel, who after a beat laughed and tapped Lyra’s nose. “Come here, monkey.”

  
Lyra’s countenance brightened as she obliged him, snuggling into his chest like a little mole burrowing into the earth.

  
The moment, if it hadn’t been tainted, would have been beautiful; a treasure to add to their ever growing memories as a family. However, beauty was far from her thoughts as she felt herself breaking.

Asriel’s eyes turned to hers as Lyra settled, no doubt headed for sleep before they even made it home. For a long moment, she studied him and wondered if he’d come to the conclusion of just what she knew. He must’ve. There was no other explanation for his earlier words of regret or the manner in which he seemed to want to impress his words upon their daughter.

What were his thoughts? If he knew she knew, what was he imagining the outcome may be?

Her body shuddered against her will, tears beginning to pool, prompting her to bite her lip as her nails once again found the impressions on her palms as she turned and pressed her forehead to the cool glass again, wishing for the thousandth time she’d have done what her heart had asked of her all those years ago rather than her head. If only she’d have run away with him, given in to his many pleas of marriage, none of this would be happening.

Lyra would be perfectly acclimated to her place in the world and she and Asriel... it hardly bared thinking of what they’d have become.

If only she too could sleep, pretend this day had never happened.

If only...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised this would have the answers to Marisa’s dilemma with Asriel, but it became a monster of a chapter that has been split not once, but twice. The next chapter is solely a flashback that I felt was too much to add here as it wouldn’t allow time to process this one because of how heavy and lengthy it is. I’m still tinkering with it, too, and I wanted to get an update out for Christmas because this story has literally been going on for a year, today. So, Merry Christmas!


	26. Parasitic Cravings

_Exhaustion clung to her like a second skin as she tried not to sway in her heels to garner a little relief from the thousands of pin pricks along her soles. Glancing around the room, she sought with a desperation for something,  anything, to help her relax the aches as well as the tension coiling in her shoulders._

_ To be fair, what she really needed was a drink, one substantially stronger than the cider she’d been sipping for the last few minutes. It had been months since she’d last enjoyed the luxury of something mind numbing enough to endure these dull parties and tonight in particular she was in desperate need. _

_ “Edward.” She nudged at him softly to keep his company from hearing. “I can’t take much more of this.” _

_ The fruity scent of his cologne only added to her unease as the baby gave a jab to her kidney on top of the wave of nausea already washing through her._

_ “Dinner will be served shortly,” he assured, bony hand resting on her lower back and taking to rubbing little circles she was sure he thought was helpful, but was in reality only furthering her present loathing of him. “We can leave afterward.” _

_ Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, she forced a thin smile as she considered breaking off the stem of her glass and stabbing him in the neck with it. _

_ As if being eight months pregnant wasn’t enough, unspeakable violence clung to her like a second skin, ever swelling beneath her breast, reminding her that her emotions were rarely her own anymore and she needed to breathe lest she slip. _

_Edward, oblivious to how very close he was to succumbing to a puncture below his flapping jaw, then, proceeded to fall back into conversation with lord so and so as there were policies to be discussed and hands to be shaken. Since his re-election, there’d been nothing but parties and speeches and late nights and sucking up to every deep pocket in London and abroad. _

_ And she had to be there... every time. _

_ Like now, here they were, at some wealthy Lord’s home. It was far from a demanding function with only fifty or so people meandering through the mansion, yet Edward had insisted simply because he’d been invited. _

_His daemon, a very social meerkat, was at present criticizing her own daemon, sorting his golden fur and making sure he stayed near. She hated the obsessive tendency and often recalled that Asriel had once deemed her a prickly bitch; a description with which she couldn’t help but agree. _

_With a glance to them, she suppressed the urge to lash out as the pointed face of his daemon was nudging her own daemon further into the group, attempting to force him into conversation. The fact that he was resisting had Edward’s fingers digging into her waist as he pulled her closer. _

_ ”Stop looking as though I’m torturing you,” he murmured at her ear when the others fell into a bout of laughter. “This is your duty, Marisa.”_

_ The protest of her feet and her back and every other joint in her body had seemed to endear Edward to her plight, but never deter his neediness of her company. It was as though he thought so long as he apologized and bought her a gift afterward that her discomfort would be swayed as though she may be making light of her ailments as a means to garner his attention. _

_ To be fair, her husband had been very doting, pampering her daily and even nightly with his attention. Any other wife would have been thrilled with him, grateful for his eyes and ears always at the ready. They’d have likely even been eager to do the very little he asked, like tonight... all he wanted was for her to laugh at a few of his jokes, bat her lashes, and help him appear as confident and charismatic as he desperately wished he was. _

_ As if she needed any further proof, she was most definitely not like any other woman. There were things she desired, needed, that he simply could not provide. His greatest downfall was that his eyes were green and not the color of the ocean, his stature tall, but lean and lacking broadness, his blonde hair thin and curled rather than a mass of thick dark locks she could wring between her fingers, and his appetite too mild, too complacent and ready to accept things at face value rather than demand more like a ravenous animal. He didn’t hunger, didn’t thirst, didn’t yearn for her, nor did he inspire that sort of feeling in herself. _

_Discomfort once again swept her, this time, to her  chagrin, with yet another of those odd cravings that would no more depart from her mind than a turtle from it’s shell. As her eyes flickered over the appetizers, she considered just stuffing a bit of each on a plate and finding a corner to weep over her life’s choices. Unfortunately, like it’s father, just anything wouldn’t suffice the greedy, little parasite pressing against her kidney._

_ Casually detaching from Edward and completely ignoring the light screech of his daemon at hers, she moved toward one of the tables across the room._

_ Every step made her feel as though she was waddling rather than gliding, the click of her heels drawing eyes which were bright, but hardly lustful or admiring. No, she wasn’t desirable any longer. She was used up, in her place, just another woman doing what the Authority had designed her to do._

_ Upon finally pausing beside the white tablecloth holding various selections, she did her best not to grimace. Just the sight of fish had become a routine dilemma as it immediately insighted a repulsive churning in her stomach. The added smell of it often led her to doubling over on her hands and knees while clutching a toilet bowl in the most undignified position she’d ever been in. _

_ “Would you care for a spinach roll, ma’am?” _

_ With a short laugh, she shook her head and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have any peanut butter, would you?” _

_ “Peanut butter?” he stuttered, glancing at the very intricate setting of dishes. “Uh- no, I’m afraid not, ma’am.”  
  
_

_ The possibility had been slim, but her disappointment was anything but which the baby made sure to let her know._

_ “What sort of fine dining wouldn’t have peanut butter on hand?” _

_ Like a burst of rain over parched earth, Asriel’s voice washed through her, the torrents of his presence devouring her then and there. _

_ Dressed crisply enough to absolutely destroy any resolve she’d maintained throughout this evening, his left hand remained in his pocket as the other held his drink, his crystal eyes sharp enough to cut through her with one sweep if they’d been focused on her at all. _

_ “Sorry, sir, we just-“ _

_ Asriel stared at the young boy, his eyes sharp and borderline savage, until the poor fellow squeaked out the last of his apology and moved further down the table to the next guest. _

_ Hardly caring any longer about her wayward craving, she barely managed to keep her breath even at his proximity. He was like an avalanche. The moment she met his gaze, she knew she’d be swept away in the debris of his chaos. _

_ “You seem to have managed to return in one piece,” she mused, reaching for a stick of celery, being sure to keep her eyes off him for fear her hands wouldn’t be so otherwise inclined. _

_ “Only just.” He stepped around her to snatch up a twist of some sweet or another, his arm brushing hers subtly, but enough to tug at the deep seated longing which had plagued her worse than any small craving ever could. “I had a few run ins with the locals, nothing out of the usual.” _

_ “How fortunate.” _

_ The celery tasted only half as good as it would have dipped in the peanut butter, she thought as she snapped off a piece between her teeth and looked toward Edward, who was still immersed where she’d left him, none the wiser to his wife’s quickly devolving thoughts. _

_ “It’s good to be back, though.” The brush of Stel’s tail against her ankle set her nerves into a frenzy and caused her daemon to jolt forward unintentionally. “To reacquaint.” _

_“Hmm, I’m sure,” she began,  mind turning over and over as she considered her next move. “Though, I must say this isn’t your usual haunt. Are you considering a career in politics?”_

_ The sound of Asriel’s laughter stirred her belly in more than one way as the baby did what felt like a somersault straight into her kidney, prompting her to press a firm hand over it. _

_ ”I doubt politics would consider me,” he replied and she knew without looking his eyes had followed her hand. “Though, I’d love to see Eddie’s reaction to my taking something so valuable from him.” _

_ She finally turned to meet his gaze, but only briefly, yet still those twin oceans nearly drowned her there on the spot. It wasn’t want, but need that pressed at her core now. She needed him like she needed oxygen. He was the only relief that could quell the pressure settling around her neck which was quite quickly closing off her throat. _

_ Now, no longer at her side, her daemon was running his fingers through silver fur, prompting her to once again glance Edward’s way. If anyone looked at them now... _

_ Forcing her breathing to slow, she snapped her fingers, signaling her daemon to retract himself from the leopard, who growled with an icy glare thrown her way. _

_   
“I’m surprised to see you here.” He nodded to her, his blue eyes lingering where her hand rested. “I’d’ve thought baby Coulter would already be here.” _

_ The emphasis on her surname sent a shiver down her spine. _

_ ”Well,” she laughed, rubbing her belly. “Like it’s father, he or she has decided to perpetually disappoint me.”  
  
  
_

_ Asriel’s eyes flashed darkly even as a friendly smile quirked at his lips.  _ _ ”Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mrs. Coulter.” _

_ It was difficult to keep herself in place as he turned from her, the leopard moving in sync with him. The pulse of her heart grew more and more unsteady the greater the distance grew and she found herself nearly panting with the panic rising at the thought that he might be leaving altogether. _

_ With another glance toward Edward, she assured herself that she had time, that he could manage without her for a while and her absence might go undetected for just long enough... _

_ It was her daemon who made the final decision, creeping ahead of her at a distance too noticeable to permit. Willing herself to behave, she meandered toward the restroom before veering for the back hallway of the home, knowing if he was still here, that was where he’d be waiting. _

_ When she rounded the corner, Oz was already scurrying through a door at the far end of the hall, the gold of his tail just catching her eye before he disappeared into the room entirely. The feelings coursing through their connection already had her airway constricting to the point that she was holding her belly as she quickened her pace. _

_ The sturdy door was soon the only thing between them and when she pushed it open, she was greeted with the sight of him leaning against the desk at the back of the room, leisurely picking over the items with one hand deep in his pocket. _

_ “Mrs. Coulter.” Eyes glinting with the mischief she’d missed so dearly, she nearly tilted forward when he turned. “Shouldn’t you be tending to your husband?” _

_ As her daemon was already nuzzling at the leopard, she closed the door herself, catching the lock as she did so. _

_ He grinned and crossed his arms. “That’s rather presumptuous.” _

_ Even the short distance that remained between them was excruciating, but there was something to settle. “You abandoned me.” _

_ “Abandoned?” He cast her a perplexed look, his brow furrowing as he narrowed his eyes in a sharp examination of her. “That’s quite the accusation considering you told me to leave. You said you couldn’t stand the sight of me.” _

_ A scoff rushed out of her as she began moving toward him. “A side effect of this parasite you’ve put in me.” _

_ He rolled his eyes and flicked a hand in her direction. “You don’t seem to mind my parasite when you’re using it to procure favors for Eddie.” _

_ ”You say that as if I want to be here.” Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes and she nearly screamed at the arrival of them. “Do you think I’m here for pleasure? Look at me.” _

_ The last time she’d been able to see her feet had been weeks ago. The doctor had told her the child could come at any time and it seemed the creature was already delighting in making her miserable by prolonging the date. _

_ ”You’re beautiful.” Softness slipped into his features as his eyes lingered on the swell of her belly, the ridiculous protrusion drawing a smile to his lips. “I could look at you all night and never get enough.” _

_ ”Don’t lie to placate me.” An irritated hand swiped below her eyes in an effort to spare herself the indignity of actually allowing tears the purchase of her cheek. “This thing has destroyed my body and won’t even do me the kindness of hurrying along its arrival.” _

_   
To make matters even more dire, she was forced to look upon the perfection of him, leaning there with his body still hard and rippling with beauty, unlike her now too soft one, weighted down with the debts of her sin. _

_  
”Perhaps, like it’s father, it loves the warmth of you too much to relinquish it.” _

_  
Butterflies. Fucking butterflies fluttered in her belly. _

_   
“Be that as it may, you abandoned me to endure this hell with no means of reprieve.”  
  
_

_ “Not by my choosing,” he reminded, pushing from the desk and lessening the space between them; one, firm finger sliding beneath her chin to call her barely maintained stern gaze to his openly bemused one. “I was only following the orders you screeched at me.”  
_

_ His hands. How she’d missed his large, calloused hands. His blunt fingertips and ripped nails. The lines of his palms that had her initial branded in their center. _

_ It didn’t matter that others had the letter, only that he did; that he was marked as hers and would know it every time he gazed upon it. _

_ ”Since when have you ever heeded my demands?”  _

_ “Hmm.” His hands cupped her cheeks as he leaned in, close enough to kiss, but far enough to tease. “In exchange for my thoughtless absence, I will heed any demand you ask of me.” _

_   
  
Before she could rationalize her next thought, a soft _ _grunt accompanied her crash into him, his hands barely managing to snap around her waist before she was waging war against his mouth, staking claim on what was hers just in case he’d forgotten. _

_ “You’re awfully aggressive,” he murmured under her assault with a hand coming to rest at her neck while the other settled over the one clutching his shirt, the material bunched as she pressed it into his hip. _

_ “Desperately so,” she moaned, twisting his tie around her hand and tugging him around to brace against her._

_   
_ _ When the backs of her thighs hit the desk, she sighed and leaned against it, welcoming the way he stumbled into her as she rested her hand on the smooth surface of the wood, every inch of his solidness brimming with a power and blatant hunger she was all too ready to be consumed by. _

_ She nearly cried when her neck became the object of his affections. “Touch me.” _

_ “Where, love?” _

_ “Anywhere. Everywhere.” Quick work was made of shoving his suit jacket to the ground and untucking his shirt so her hands could burn themselves over the hard planes of his flesh._

_ “Is that an order?” he chuckled against her skin, his fingers kneading between her shoulder blades, digging so deep into the tissue an obscene noise worked its way up her throat. _

_ Then, Asriel nipped at her ear, his hot breath setting her nerves ablaze as her cunt grasped at nothing, yet still sent her eyes rolling back. “I missed you,” he murmured, lips burning a trail along her jaw, hands continuing down the coiled muscles in her back. “Dreamed of you.” _

_ Words escaped her as she panted into his shoulder, each strained breath muffled by the shirt she’d knotted between her fingers. _

_ ”These sounds you make.” He switched sides, moving over her collarbone and back to her jawline. “How soft you are.” _ _His free hand wrapped around her neck, forcing her glazed eyes to his dilated ones, his pupils blown as they devoured her. “It’s a sin for us to ever be apart.” _

_   
Twice, she nearly tripped amidst the desperate grasping and groping, hers demanding and his willing, before they ended with her seated in his lap on the sofa at the far side of the room, her back arched against his chest, their bodies rocking together as he held her dress over her hips to keep it from ripping with their frenzied movements. _

_ “Touch me,” she wheezed, sucking at his fingers one last time before leading his hand to the pulsing heat between her thighs, his fingers so thick and firm and absolutely willing to abuse the attention starved bundle of nerves. _

_ If not for the very barest recollection of where she was, she’d have dissolved into an absolute chorus of base encouragement. As it was, she twisted enough for her hand to call him from the column of her neck to her mouth in an attempt to muffle the sob in her throat. _

_His kiss was hungry and thorough enough to tell her this was as needed for him as it was for her, revealing how starved he was for her, body and soul. If only she could turn and take him in her arms, bite and bruise him, lave his back with the scratches that would give way to welts that would remind him for days to whom he belonged. Alas, she was cumbered due to the very  physical reminder of how far she’d slipped, of how deeply he’d buried himself in her veins._

_ Left to tangle her fingers in his much too long hair, she arched into him the best she could to accommodate his shallow thrusts, mouth falling open in a silent whimper as his thumb took a painfully wonderful pass over her clit. _

_Under the desk, their daemon’s purred as they tussled and nuzzled at one another, Stel’s iciness from before completely melted as she rolled to her back with the primate in tow. They were as lost in one another as she and Asriel, who’s skillful touch was hurtling through every barrier and over every wall she’d ever built. _

_ And the euphoria was brilliant. The spark of a thousand tiny knives pricking her all at once as she bit her palm to keep from screaming his name. _

_ Being with him was like being reborn, each time purifying her, rejuvenating her, mending the brokenness of her soul and leaving it whole. _

_ “Name a continent.” The words burned into her cheek as his hand rested on her thigh, thumb and fingers massaging deep into the flesh. “Any continent.” _

_ The words were fuzzy, tingling at her ears as he undulated beneath her, the thick fiber that bound them pulsing as her muscles continued to contract._

_ “Why?” she finally sighed, rolling her head over his shoulder so she could better look into his eyes. “Are you planning on abandoning me again?”_

_ The touch of his hands on her thighs combined with the way his heart raced behind hers left her feeling lethargic and, if not for the very irritating man waiting for her in the main room, she’d have been content to nod right off in his arms. _

_ “I’ll buy you a house, a castle, a ship, anything you want, if you just run away with me.” _

_ Romantic as that may have sounded to anyone else, unquenchable sadness swept the receding pleasure as an altogether different sort of weariness once again settled on her shoulders, weighing so heavily she imagined it had slipped to her eyes and spread out over her face like a disease webbing itself over her skin. _

_ Apparently, he spotted the shift as he stiffened, hands swiftly taking their leave of her thighs to journey north. “We could build such a magnificent life together, Marisa.” He rested his large, calloused hand to the very physical evidence of their coupling, his fingers splaying out against her belly. “The three of us.” _

_ The crumbling of her mental barriers was steadily compromising her ability to reason. _

_ “I’d have you research to your heart’s content and our child would be free to nurture whatever talents it could possibly dream up. I’d make sure of it.” A single finger took the fallen strands of her hair over her ear as he beseeched her with the most earnest look she imagined he could conjure. “Neither of you would ever want for anything.” _

_ His need to have her approval for his post coital pleas was as tangible as his hands insistence on her body. She could practically taste the desire radiating off him; hear it churning in his voice, feel it tattooing itself across their skin. _

_ For the briefest of moments, she allowed a ‘yes’ to form in her mind. It appeared so seamlessly. A home not too grand, but still striking. A lab for the both of them to tinker and argue and create. A safe place to grow their child, their mixture of all the best parts of them. A bedroom, a haven where shame could not find them and they could die and breathe life over and over in each other arms. _

_ Asriel would love her, care for her. Even her bones knew that. He’d slay any and all who dared deny her. He’d ensure no one was ever credited for what was hers. She’d shine  _ with _ him, not behind him. _

_ Denial of such a future stuck like glue in her throat, choking her resolve, but deny she did with the gentlest of ‘no’s’. _

_ Disappointment flashed in his eyes mixed with a generous dose of rejection before anger quickly brushed the two aside like leaves in the wind. She tried to stand, to disconnect as a means of escape, but found the angle too awkward and the added weight to difficult to manage. _

_To further her dilemma, Asriel seemed of no mind to assist her graceless wiggling in his lap until Stel growled and lifted beside them, her large silver paws threatening to swipe at him should he disobey. “Help her.” _

_ With a frustrated growl of his own, he took her by the hips and practically lifted her to her feet, allowing her dress to drop around her hips in a fall of icy blue. _

_ Breath still uneven, she watched him with a measure of envy as he swiftly withdrew from her and tugged his crumpled slacks up his legs, mourning the days she could actually reach her feet for such a simple task. _

_ His sudden preoccupation with the objects on the desk spoke of the delicate line she’d once again found herself balancing on. His movements as he began buttoning his shirt were so sharp she worried he’d snap off a button and render the material ruined. _

_“Let me,” she whispered, gently laying her hands over his and moving them aside as she picked up where he’d left off, the grief of leaving him to rejoin her husband beginning to creep up her spine and settle into her bones, which felt like they were internally stabbing her. There was really no telling when they’d see each other again, if at all, before the baby came._

_ “Don’t be angry with me.” Though she meant the words to be firm, they came out broken and full of regret. “We had an agreement. This baby will be raised as Edward’s. Just because the due date is close doesn’t mean anything has changed.” _

_ All she received was a grunt as he buckled his belt, the two of them working in unison to redress him like they completed such tasks every day. _

_ When she finished, she smoothed her hands over the hopelessly wrinkled blue fabric and sighed, knowing she had to go, but finding herself genuinely unable to retract from the warmth, the security, of him, made more endearing by the fact that he had moved on to removing what she was sure was smeared lipstick from her chin. _

_ Her daemon was quick to gather her underwear to hold out for her at the snap of her fingers, but Asriel was quicker as he snatched the material from the unsuspecting creature and knelt before her, flicking his wrist at the primate, who scurried back into the leopard’s thick coat. _

_ No doubt, he was lingering, holding off her departure for as long as possible as she braced against his shoulder and stepped into the lace, waiting as he hitched it up her legs and secured it into place under her dress. _

_ He then looked up to her, their eyes meeting for the first time as his hands continued around her body to splay against her backside, his hold firm as he tugged her closer. “I’m afraid I’ll kill him, Marisa.” _

_ A small smile touched her lips as she laid a gentle palm to his still flushed cheek, ignoring what someone might have called a shimmer of more than want in his eyes. “I’d not shed a tear.” _

_“It’s difficult enough to watch him touch you at all, but-“ His eyes fell to the swell of her belly as a frustrated sound bubbled in his throat. “A white hot rage engulfs me every time I imagine him touching our child, calling _our_ baby his own.”_

_ As it did her, but she couldn’t very well feed his bubbling rage. Instead, she smoothed her fingers up the lines of his face and into his hair, noting just how long and thick it had grown during his time away. _

_ “I doubt he’ll bother with it too much after the initial hoopla of its arrival. He’ll be more concerned with his career than the baby just as he is with me.” _

_ Asriel’s head fell forward to rub against her, his short nails biting deeply into her backside as he kneaded the flesh. “That still won’t make it easier to know he gets to be there with you, hear the first sounds of what we created.” _

_ ”Perhaps, you shouldn’t have impregnated a married woman, then.” _

_ Over his shoulder, Stel shot her a reproachful glare, one accompanied by bared teeth and claws scratching at the wooden floor like she wanted to embed the both of them in her throat. _

_ “I suppose my next child will have to be with my wife, then.” _

_ ”Oh?” she asked, hastily jerking his head back, blood turning to ice. “And to which nitwit will that be, hmm?” _

_ ”I imagine any one I choose,” he replied, eyelids twitching as she twisted her nails into his scalp. “You’re not the only beautiful woman with a brain, you know.” _   
  


_  
Desperate not to let his hypothetical wife visibly affect her, she released him with an indifferent shrug. “Well, choose and fuck her soon so I can set up play dates between your children.” _

_ Displeasure darkened his features. “Why do you get off on torturing me?” _

_ Combing his hair back into place from the disarray she’d caused, she asked, ”Does it matter?” _

_ “No.” _

_ The little confirmation made her chuckle. _

_ ”It’s only fair. I am about to push out a whole person you deliberately put inside me. If you remember, I didn’t even want children.” _

_ ”Then, give her to me.” Eyes sparkling with a hunger that took her aback, he drew his hands around to her belly. “If you don’t want her, give her to me when she’s born.” _

_ ”She?” she repeated with a soft laugh, tracing her fingers over his lips and delving one between just enough to wet the tip. “That’s rather presumptuous.” _

_ ”That’s what you prefer, isn’t it?“ He kissed the pad of the digit. “Lyra?” _

_ The fact that he remembered somewhat soothed the fact that he was demanding her child, the little parasite who kept her up late into the night with heartburn, kicking and squirming, stealing her sleep and her health and sometimes, she thought with amusement, her sanity. _

_ ”If you think I’ve endured destroying my body.” She placed both hands over his on her belly. “Not to mention what I’ll endure during the birth, only to give her away, you are sadly mistaken.” _

_ ”Do you want her, Marisa?” He looked over her like she was an especially difficult equation he needed to solve before publishing a paper. “Really?” _

_ As if making itself known, the baby once again pressed into her kidney. _

_ ”She’s here whether I want her or not, Asriel.” Moving his hands, she made sure to press his fingers just so. “Right here.” _

_ It took a moment for him to understand before his eyes widened, darting up to briefly meet hers before returning to her belly, his hand splaying over the pulsing area, equal amounts childish wonder and intellectual intrigue permeating his features. _

_ ”Extraordinary,” he whispered through a chuckle, investigating the place between their fingers. “You’re extraordinary.”_

_ Tilting her head to the side, she traced the lines of his face before combing them through his hair. Their moments had been so few and far between lately. The absences creating a dark chasm in her life she didn’t want to consider, but also couldn’t avoid acknowledging. There’d been times she’d been so despondent over his absence, she’d cried herself to sleep. Only her daemon knew such truths and her eyes flickered to him dangerously, daring him to utter them. _

_ Stel noticed the glare, baring her teeth again before nudging the daemon out of her sight as though he belonged more to she than her._

_ “I have to go,” she murmured after a few more moments of stroking him. “This was risky as it is.” _

_ When he didn’t seem of the mind to move, she took a step away, grateful he didn’t fight her, and allowed her waiting daemon to slip her heels on, despite the ache to her arch which brought a little sigh up her throat. _

_ “You shouldn’t be wearing shoes like that.” He regained his feet and scowled as she struggled to keep her balance as the monkey strapped the heels around her ankles. “You shouldn’t be here at all.” _

_“He wouldn’t hear of me staying home.” She rolled her eyes and smiled as she moved to a window to check her reflection and touch up the smudges to her makeup with the purse her daemon recovered. “He said he needed me to _sway_ a few benefactors. The man is absolutely hopeless without me.”_

_ Asriel didn’t share in her amusement. If anything, he looked downright furious. “You’re due any time. He’s a fucking idiot.” _

_ “Mmm, you won’t hear me disagreeing.” His grunt of disapproval made her laugh. “Honestly, I’m fine, Asriel. The worst part of this evening is the odd craving I have for celery dipped in peanut butter of all things. Your daughter is already running me ragged and she’s not even here yet.” _

_There was a visible tremor in his reflection as he ran a hand through his hair. “You are a brilliant, beautiful woman who should have the world in your hands, Marisa.” He looked around the room, his chest rising and falling in quick successions. “Our daughter should have the world in her hands. Why would you deny either of you that?”_

_She gave herself a moment to stare at her own reflection, the tension he’d relieved creeping back into her shoulders._

_“Maybe I should just let it go,” he went on, passing a hand down his face. “Leave and stay away._ _”_

_ ”Leave?” A hard crease formed over her brow as she turned back to him. “You’ve only just returned.” _

_ ”You misunderstand.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, stilling as he met her with a piercing gaze, stiff jawed and resolute. “I’m not going to beg you, but I won’t stay here and be made a simpering fool of either. I won’t keep being used for your selfish gains when I receive nothing in return.” _

_ Eyes narrowed as she watched him watch her, she flicked a wrist toward the sofa. ”I seem to recall you orgasming the same as I did mere minutes ago.” _

_ ”I could do that with anyone.” He returned her glare with a vexed one. “With a great deal less hassle.” _

_ ”Oh, I see,” she laughed, tossing her hands up. “So, much for your declarations of love.” _

_ ”There’s little reward in loving someone like you.” _

_ ”Someone like me?” She squared her shoulders as her breathing began to compete with his. “You pursued me, Asriel, knowing I was married. It’s not my fault that you brought feelings into it.” _

_ ”Which is why I don’t see why you’d have a problem with my leaving,” he mocked. “That is still your stance, isn’t it? You don’t love me.”_

_ The tension notched another level. Even Stel seemed to stare as her daemon gave a quiet whimper and shuffled toward her. _

  
_“Why are you doing this?” She held up her hands. “We had an agreement.”_   
  


_”We came to _no_ agreement,” he snapped, jolting forward as if he might grab her before abruptly turning and running his hands through his hair. “This is getting ridiculous, Marisa.”  
_

_”What’s ridiculous is this tantrum.” A forced laugh kept her own tremor at bay. “All because you're jealous that you don’t possess me the way I posses you.”  
  
_

_His forgotten flute of wine became lost to the door as he flung it across the room, the red residue pouring in rivulets down the mahogany wood as the glass scattered across the floor at her feet._

_“I don’t have time for this.” The choice to rise to meet his tantrum was set aside in favor of keeping her composure as she stepped over the shards of glass and reached for the door. “Leave if you like.”_

_”Oh, so I should __fall in line with your orders.” __He gestured toward the door with a dismissive, “While you cling to submission, spreading your legs for that weak cunt who’ll overlook your brilliance at every turn, preferring to never see you as anything more than a pretty cock sleeve who strokes his ego while he gets to raise our child.  _ My _child, Marisa.”_

_ Reduced to doing little other than blinking at him, a few heartbeats passed before she gave a single nod and opened and shut the door in quick succession. _

_However, the click of the door behind her was all the signal her body needed to betray her, forcing her to grasp the wall for support as a sob began to work its way to the surface. _

_ Clamping a hand over her mouth, she rested her head to the wall and told herself to breathe, to cast his words off for the childish tantrum they were, but the truth in them were pressing at her like a tidal wave ready to sweep her right off her feet and into the vultures down the hall where they’d peck at her corpse until there was nothing but scraped over bone._

_ Why couldn’t he understand that? _

_ Then, the door opened and he stumbled out in a rush, prompting her to shove away from the wall and turn from him before he could see her face, setting course for the laughter and music at the other end of the hallway. _

_ The urgent whisper of her name only fueled her forward without even a glance backward and the expected footsteps behind her had faded by the time she reached the teeming area, bypassing the restroom entirely as she knew he’d only follow her in. _

_ From her place at the edge of the open room, she could see Edward’s agitation visibly heightened as he swiped his hands on the breast of his jacket, his eyes flickering around the room every few moments as he listened to Brant Manford and Gerald Dobson, a deep pocket, no doubt attempting to pick at his policies with a few addendums of their own. She knew he was in search of her and steeled herself for his impending admonishment as she began moving through the room while praying she’d not left any evidence of Asriel on her. _

_ She was a dozen feet from them when he finally found her, a visible sigh of relief spilling from his cheeks as he detached from the group and swiftly strode toward her. _

_ A firm hand settled at her back accompanied by a quick heat at her ear, “You disappeared.” _

_ Forcing herself to relax, she turned to her husband with an amused smile as he guided her through the room. “Hardly. I just needed to sit for a minute.” _

_His daemon screeched at hers, her claws scratching at Oz’s neck as Edward gave an unprecedented scowl. “You’re always disappearing. Would it kill you to stay by my side for the length of one evening?” _

_ “I’m eight and a half months pregnant, Edward. I cannot stand by your side all evening and listen to the endless driveling.” She sighed and lifted a hand to lay against his chest, tickling her fingers through the button holes. “We’ve been here for over an hour. I needed a break.” _

_ Clearly unimpressed, his fingers curled around her wrist and tugged her closer. “I need you to be attentive this evening. It’s important-“ _

_ “It’s always important,” she cut in with more heat than she’d meant before quickly backtracking under his surprised expression with a wilted tone, the tears she’d held back from Asriel now conjured for Edward’s benefit. “But your wife’s health clearly isn’t. You don’t think of me at all and what I’m going through, Edward.” _

_ “That’s not true. You’re all I think about, dear.” His hands began petting at her arms and neck like he could wipe her agitated state right off her skin. “I promise, after tonight, I won’t ask it of you again until after the baby arrives.” _

_ She didn’t doubt it. Edward was nothing if not a man of his word. It was entirely too easy to sway him when she really wanted. It brought an unintentional wrinkle to her nose at the thought that Asriel would have never given in so easily. Every day with him would be such a glorious fight. They’d wage war from dusk til dawn til dusk once more before exhausting each other on one another’s body in the aftermath._

_Then again, she thought morosely. Asriel would never have had her here in the first place. _

_ “Ah, Marisa, there you are,” Charlotte laughed as she waved them over to the small party. “We thought you’d abandoned us.” _

_ “Forgive me, I needed to find somewhere to rest my feet.” She smiled and rubbed a hand over her swollen belly, a gesture that had a fairly effective rate when it came to quelling concerns. “This little one’s doing a number on me.” _

_ The women in the group exchanged sympathetic assurances while the men seemed to wince at the very idea and fell back into whatever they were discussing, though Edward’s hand kept hers locked within his as though she may stray from him again. _

_ “You must be so excited, Marisa,” one of the wives commented cheerily. “This will be your first, won’t it?” _

_ “And only,” she laughed, fanning her face. “I keep waiting for the beauty in new life and motherhood to come that everyone’s always on about, but it seems to be avoiding me.” _

_ Charlotte giggled and patted the other woman’s arm. “I’m surprised Edward got this one in her at all. Marisa’s never been of the mothering mind. She has high aspirations.” _

_ The two broke into fits of laughter as they spoke of their own children at home and she found herself staring at them rather dumbly after a time and had to force herself to fix her face into something more pleasant. _

_ Heaven forbid she ever become some sappy twit once the child passed from her. It seemed every reasonable woman she knew became a simple minded idiot once they became mothers. _

_ All the more reason, she told herself, that she keep her emotions in check. Asriel wouldn’t leave her, she assured herself. He was too invested, too addicted. What happened earlier was just another of his attempts to garner a reaction from her, to attempt to sway her out of Edward’s arms and into his._

_ Self assurance did nothing to quell his last words from reverberating around her skull, though. _ _ A scratch at her ankle reminded her to keep her face pleasant and retract her nails from her palms. _

_ As though the devil had read her thoughts, Asriel’s voice penetrated her straight through her middle as she turned to find him smirking with another glass in his hand as he eased up to stand between Edward and Brant, shorter than both, but radiating generations of aristocratic confidence that made him a giant between them. _

_ “Asriel,” Edward cheerily greeted with a clap to the shoulder. “We’ve not seen you about in some time.” _

_ “I’ve been out of the country on business. I’m sure you know how it is.” _

_ “Yes, yes,” Edward nodded along. “Your ever continuing adventures in the North. If only we could all cast aside duty in the pursuit of adventure.”  _

_ “Seems you‘ve had a grand time of your return as well,” commented Brant with a nod to Asriel’s neck where a set of teeth marks were prominently displayed. “I imagine she was beautiful.” _

_ Asriel lifted his drink as a smirk adorned his lips that was so ridiculous she felt her eyes flutter with the urge to dig her nails into him. “The most glorious thing I’ve ever beheld.” _

_ As the men fell into a bout of laughter and the women into murmurs, Asriel rocked on his heels and met her eyes for the briefest of moments. _

_ It was enough to have her entire body wanting to delve deep and gouge out his eyes at his decision to play with fire. If either men had any sense, they’d realize that the lipstick at his collar was the same shade as the one on her lips. _

_ “Tell us, Lord Asriel, when will you be settling down?” Charlotte asked with a laugh as the attention of every woman within fifteen feet seemed to fixate on him as they held their breath. It never failed to irk her how pathetically thirsty each and every one of them was for him. At her feet, her daemon glared at Stelmaria who was indifferently gazing off in the opposite direction. “Will this woman have you?” _

_ A haughty smirk creased Asriel’s lips as he rolled his shoulders and leaned in conspiratorially. “She would, but her husband would most certainly disapprove.” _

_ If Edward hadn’t choked on his drink, she was sure he’d have felt her flinch. The implications began to swarm her mind competing with the rational side of her brain which was telling her to keep breathing._

_ “Oh, mercy,” gasped Audrey, the wife from before, who’s butterfly danced around her head. “Lord Asriel, you could be shot for such a thing!” _

_“Don’t fret, sweetheart,” Asriel assured with a wink as Stel turned from Brant’s and Charlotte’s daemons, a bulldog with the parrot on his head, to nudge at Asriel’s thigh. “His shooting is the reason she’s so bored. But to answer your earlier question, Mrs. Manford, we  can’t all be as lucky as Eddie, here.” He glanced to her, leveling her with the most shit eating grin she’d ever seen, and held out his glass toward her obvious pregnancy. “How goes impending motherhood, Mrs. Coulter?”_

_ When she got her hands on him, she was going to make the teeth marks she’d left seem like a little pinch. _

_ “Ever evolving,” she replied with a little laugh, praying the color hadn’t completely drained from her face. “I’ll be glad when this part is passed.” _

_ Edward chuckled too, uneasy as it was, while laying his hand over her belly. “As will I. I’m quite ready to meet the little lad.” _

_ There was a noticeable shift in Asriel’s stance as he took another generous drink from his glass, highlighted by Stelmaria’s claws scratching at the marble floor. When their eyes met over the glass, the oceans she’d so missed were now teeming like twin hurricanes set to tear straight through her. _

_ “Or lady,” she replied, forcing her tone to remain light. “For where would any of you men be without the fairer sex?” _

_ Asriel shrugged and swirled his drink. “I imagine somewhere with slightly deeper pockets.” _

_ ”Well said, my boy,” Gerald chuckled, his drink sloshing as he clapped Asriel’s back. “Better to keep the greedy leeches off you until you have need of one.” He winked at her. “No matter how prettily packaged they come.” _

_ ”Now, Gerald, you’re trying to put us all in the doghouse,” Edward offered, his arm settling around her waist again. “There’s nothing quite like having a beautiful wife at your side.” _

_ ”Perhaps, you’re right, Eddie,” Asriel replied. “I may have to find me one after all. Though, I’m afraid you’ve snapped up the last one with quite so sharp a tongue.” _

_ “You haven’t the slightest idea,” Edward laughed and she could feel Oz internally trembling as his daemon nuzzled him. “I can only hope our child takes more from my side of things.” _

_On the verge of breaking the skin of her palm, she forced a bright smile. “It’s only a matter of time before we find out. I can’t wait to see you holding our baby, darling.” She kissed Edward’s cheek before turning to brand her eyes upon Asriel’s. “Edward’s going to be such a wonderful father.” _

_ The rest of the group followed the tone she’d set with a few murmurs of agreement before falling back into their previous conversations, leaving her to deal with the fact that Asriel was standing there just to set her off. _

_ He did this when he was pissed off. He and Edward had absolutely nothing in common to talk about and yet he’d force conversation, ask about policies, Edward’s intentions for the people. It was a blatant cock fight with a depth that Edward couldn’t fathom. _

_ But if he thought he could stand there and continue with this game, he was going to be set in his place. _

_ Chancing a small glance his way, she found his jaw locked tight as he stared into his glass like he wanted to drowned in it. She imagined if they were alone, the eyewall of his storm would be slamming into her as the brief calm faded. _

_ “Any plans to deal with the skirmishes along the ports?” Gerald asked. “Those damned Gyptian’s and their water rights have cost me a chunk of pocket change.” _

_ ”From what I hear, it’s the Gyptian’s who’re losing their rights.” Asriel leveled the man with a scowl. “Attempting to shuffle them off to the side would cause you more problems than not, Gerald.” _

_ ”And why should I concern myself with those water rats?” the man scoffed, thrusting his glass toward Asriel. “They’re undercutting my prices.” _

_ “I’m sure an agreement will be reached soon,” Edward chuckled, patting Gerald’s arm. Ever the politician, he began steering the man toward the dining area. “Gerald, I do believe we need to get some food in you.” _

_ As Edward took the man by the arm in an effort to steady him, the rest of the small party began moving toward the dining hall and, with Edward completely occupying himself with the man, leaving her to make her own way. _

_ ”Here.” Asriel offered her his arm as he cast Edward a murderous glare and muttered lowly, “Fucking asshole.” _

_If it wouldn’t have raised questions to anyone watching, she’d have refused him. So, she took his arm and placated herself by digging her nails into his arm. “You’re playing with fire.” _

_ ”Isn’t that what we do?” His tone was clipped as he grunted, arm momentarily giving out under her abuse. “Play games?” _

_ ”Except I’ll be the one who burns if one of us trips with the lighter.” She smiled at the people they were passing on the way to the long table. “And the baby. Is that what you want?” _

_ At that, he looked off with a huff. “You know what I want, Marisa.” _

_ ”As far as I know, what you want is to leave me.” Too tired to keep up the pressure of torturing him, she forced him to take some of her weight. _ _ “You can’t change my mind by making empty threats, Asriel. Our lives are what they are.” _

_ ”Easy to say when you have everything you want.” _

_ ”If you really think I have what I want, you don’t know anything about me.” Her eyes began to burn again, prompting her to dig her nails into his arm with all the force she could muster, attempting to bury everything in him rather than let it show on her face. “I have nothing, Asriel.” _

_ ”Marisa-” _

_ ”Over here, darling,” Edward called, waving her to the vacant seat beside his before falling back into conversation with Brant and Gerald._

_ “You have me.” _

_   
Stel brushed her knees at Asriel’s promise and Oz gave a little cry as she moved ahead of them, being the first of the foursome to withdraw. _

_ Wetting her lips, she exhaled a heavy sigh, swallowing against the burn in her throat _ _as Asriel seated her and gave Edward’s shoulder a hard clap. “Always a pleasure to see the Coulter’s.” _

_ Edward looked between them in surprise before commenting, “You’re leaving already?” _

_ Asriel leaned down between them and pointed to Father MacPhail, who was seated further down the table, engaged in conversation with a few of his closer colleagues._

_“I believe I see someone I’ll take a great deal of joy in pestering,” he said with a laugh before adding, “Get her home soon, Eddie. You wouldn’t want to cause a stir of rumors that you can’t manage a crowd without your heavily pregnant wife here to coddle you.” _

_ With that, he sauntered off to take a seat next to MacPhail, who’s face paled upon seeing him. _

_ “Repulsively arrogant man, isn’t he?” His hand laid over hers as he kissed her cheek. “I do appreciate you putting up with the likes of him. I hope you know that.” _

_ ”Hmm.” She smiled and rested her free hand in Oz’s fur as his longing for Stel became palpable beneath the table. “Only for you, darling.” _

_ Edward beamed before leaving her to her own devices, where she was forced to attempt getting a hold of the feelings creeping up her throat, ready to burst out and burn all three of them. _

_ Dinner finally was served and while it was sufficient, she couldn’t bring herself to eat much if it. Nausea was too prevalent, though she couldn’t be sure if it was Asriel, Edward, or the baby that was the dominant cause of her discomfort. _

_ “Ma’am?”Behind her stood a server holding a cup out toward her. “The peanut butter you asked for.” _

_ A bit bewildered, she accepted the cup and peered into it to indeed find a few scoops of the brown substance along with a few celery sticks standing against the sides. At seeing the vegetable, she frowned._

_ “Thank you,” she said, hesitating as she met the boy’s eyes. “How did you know I wanted celery?” _

_ The boy’s eyes shot wide as he glanced over her head down the table. “Is that not what you wanted?” _

_ Following his gaze, she found Asriel’s eyes burning into her, his gaze soft as he gave a little grin before looking away. _

_ Fingering the cup, she felt a smile creep to her lips as she turned back to the boy. “It is what I wanted, thank you.” _

_Relief visibly coursed through him as he departed, leaving her to once again shift her feelings around regarding the chaotic, beautiful man who made her equal amounts furious and passionate. _

_ Twirling one of the sticks through the peanut butter, she lifted her eyes again to find Asriel fully engaged in his conversation, his head tossed back in laughter as MacPhail looked uncomfortably horrified._

_ What a magnificent life they could have had, indeed. _


	27. The Road to Hell

An odd smell wafted from Lyra’s room when she opened the door, drawing a wrinkle to her nose as she made her way over to the bedside lamp with the mental note to have it checked first thing tomorrow morning. There was no telling what it could be as there really was no end to what Lyra would get up to when left to roam, always seeing everything as a magical adventure with tokens and treasures, no matter how old and mildewed, to find.

  
Asriel swayed as Lyra murmured into his neck another protest about it being bedtime while she went about pulling back the covers on the bed and smoothing her hands over the sheets, checking for stray objects, of which she found a book lodged under the pillow and a torch for what she knew was Lyra’s nightly routine of sneaking to read according to Oz’s reports when he did his routine checking of both children.

Allowing Lyra to assume this a secret was a pass she gave her as it was the only time her daughter ever actually _volunteered_ to read.

Moving the book of constellations Asriel had given her off to the side, she turned around and beckoned Asriel closer.

”Here,” she whispered, pulling the clip from Lyra’s hair and setting it on the nightstand. “Hold her while I get the zipper.”

Asriel did as asked while Oz hopped to the bed and held out the soft, blue material, waiting for her to pull off the dress and replace it with the gown.

  
“Mama,” Lyra muttered, head lulling to the side when Asriel laid her down.

”Shh.” She sat on the bedside and carded her fingers through Lyra’s hair.

”I’m not tired.” Even as she said it she yawned while Pan lumbered to her neck and curled around her as a soft, white kitten.

”Sleep now and I’ll have a huge breakfast waiting for you in the morning.”

”With blueberry muffins?”

”Of course,” she laughed.

”Are you still taking me to Jordan College with you, tomorrow?” Lyra stared hopefully over her shoulder. “You promised.”

  
“Yes.” Asriel stepped closer, his jacket hung over a crooked arm as one hand remained deep in his pocket. “If that’s alright with your mother.”

Stifling her unease, she smiled at Lyra. “We’ll see.”

”But-“

”Lyra,” she warned lowly, pulling the blankets up to tuck her in. “We’ll see.”

Lyra made a soft grunt of disapproval as Asriel smoothed a hand over her hair and tapped her nose. “Goodnight, monkey.”

Asriel’s departure from the room brought her a sigh of what she knew was only momentary relief.

Lyra’s eyes fluttered closed a few times as she struggled to keep them open. “I really want to go with him.”

”I know.” And she did. And every part of her wanted to pretend it wasn’t a question of if it would be permitted.

Gently patting the blankets around her daughter, she waited as consciousness swiftly faded, allowing her to give a last kiss to her temple.

The moment she stepped around the doorframe and let the knob click, it was as though reality has been waiting to smack her dead in the face as she grasped the wall and stifled a sob, covering her mouth with her other hand.

Oz eased up next to her, his stride slow and hesitant. “Come along,” he urged. “There’s no point putting it off any longer.”

  
“I can’t.”

And so they stood there, the only sound in the eerily quiet manor the soft breathing she’d managed to take hold of.

“I need to check on Lynx,” she abruptly stated, heading for the next room rather than her own.

”Isa-“

Oz’s plea was lost to her back as she all but barreled through the open door, intent to wile away a few more minutes, only to come up short at finding her idea hadn’t been original.

Stel sat at Asriel’s side who was reclined at the window seat, Lynx asleep in his arms, jacket and tie discarded off to the side, sleeves rolled up to his elbows with the top few buttons of his once crisply pressed shirt now undone. He looked like a man defeated and she’d yet to even begin.

“Not here,” Oz warned and she closed the door, leaving him outside to keep her from being betrayed once again by his siding with Asriel. The last thing she needed was him getting in the way.

Then, a little unsteadily, she ventured further into the room, leaving her heels by the door and allowing the soft carpet around the crib to be her grounding as her toes curled in it as though clinging to a raft in a tempest.

When she was directly in front of him, she took his chin between her fingers and lifted his face, eyes perusing his carefully, cautiously. It was odd to look into his eyes and not see all the answers there the way she had once upon a time. Now, she looked at him and saw duplicity, manipulation, and betrayal. The love she’d always been so sure of seemed to be tainted.

”Marisa.”

It was easy as breathing to silence him with a kiss; a soft, yet desperately wishful kiss. There was little she loved to do more than kiss Asriel. She recalled how in the beginning, it had always been one of those rushing feelings anytime it happened. Oh, how she’d looked forward to meeting him in some dark corner for even a moment of closeness.

With nearly as much tentativeness as she was displaying, one of his large hands settled at her waist and he pulled her closer. She was sure if Lynx hadn’t already occupied his arms, she’d be trapped like a bird in a cage. Alas, this was likely the best place to confront him.

Now standing between his legs, she could feel the heat radiating off him and the way his muscles coiled under the palm she had placed against his shoulder, the way the power of him, of Lord Asriel, leaked into her skin, reminding her of the danger about him. How everyone feared and skirted him with good reason.

Tragically, just as it always went with her life, she was reminded nothing good ever lasts forever by the gentle press of his fingers to her skin signaling the end to the preciously short kiss.

”You’re kissing me like you’ll never again do so.”

Eyes still closed, she rested her temple to his and whispered, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Her name became a plea on his lips that had her rolling her body away to sit beside him. He didn’t turn, didn’t beg. He simply waited. She, too, found it difficult to look at him, so she directed her response to Lynx’s peaceful face, all the while wishing the floor would envelop her and cast her from this moment.

“Do you ever think about what would have happened if I hadn’t fallen pregnant?”

There was a stifling pause before, ”Which time?”

A soft laugh bubbled out for even now, it was as though fate found amusement in their repetition. “The second time.” Lynx’s cheek was warm as she brushed her thumb along it, enviously watching as his eyelids fluttered with dreams. “With him.”  
  


A hand wiped down his face as he sighed, “Not lately.”

”Such a surprise.” Trailing her fingers over Lynx’s soft shirt, she kept her thoughtful smile. “With Lyra, there was all this panic and secrecy to cover up what we’d done, but Lynx... I suppose he saved me because without him, even though I loved you with everything inside me, it was never going to be you.” She watched his profile as she forced the truth to the surface. “I’d have married Ross. I _intended_ to marry Ross.”

His body was stiff now, coiled, his gaze steady on their son, but by the way his jaw clenched, she knew his teeth were grinding and was surprised she couldn’t hear the bones sliding against each other.

”I do commend you on your mock surprise at the gala, though.” She laughed again at the memory. “You had me so twisted up over it.”

At that, Stel perked up while his shoulders slumped forward, “Marisa-“

”And the paternity,” she went on, refusing to let his theatrical performance slide. “_Pretending_ to wonder if you were Lynx’s father. That was... truly special. My monologue at your trial pales in comparison.”

Still, he waited, though she could see Stel from the corner of her eye shifting beside him, her claws digging into the carpet.

“It really paints your relentless pursuit of my hand in a different light.” Lifting a hand out, she laughed, “I mean why _did_ you want to marry me?”

Silence persisted long enough that she thought he would remain that way for the duration of the night. When he finally answered, his voice was hoarse as though from disuse.

”I imagine you mean besides the obvious decade long affair which was accompanied by two unplanned pregnancies?” There was a shift and she knew he was studying her in earnest now, those twin oceans sweeping her profile in search of hidden clues, but she’d chosen to study Lynx for fear Asriel would weaponize his eyes like he often did. “I have no interest in this game, so just come on out with it, Marisa.”

”This is hardly a game. It’s an opportunity for you to dip your toes into some honesty for once.”

More silence found its way between them and it seemed as though it would keep expanding on forever until he finally said, “Honesty.” The tone, lifeless and dull, finally drew her gaze. There was a plea there in his face, but also a hardness. “You of all people want to talk about honesty with me?” He looked away from her and shook his head. “Why I’m with you has never been a secret, Marisa.”

”And here I thought Lyra inherited lying from just me. If you’re going to continue, though, please at least show a little backbone and try your hand at lying better. Let’s start with how you ran off my maybe fiancé, _fucked_ me, and then began rifling through my office.”

Back straightened, his height became a weapon as he scrutinized every facet of her face. “We had an understanding that I could do whatever I wanted so long as I kept quiet. Those were your words, your _rules_, which I have continuously played by.”

“Quiet?” she echoed, gaze drifting around the nursery, not for a moment missing the deflection. “Well, you _certainly_ fooled me with your silence, didn’t you?” The words felt like tar on her tongue. “You used our history to prey upon my emotions and get my guard to drop so you could use me.”

Stel sprung to her feet with a growl. “You are not a fool, Marisa. Don’t confuse love with duty.”

”_Duty_?” she hissed, directing her wrath to Asriel as her gaze whirled to his again, this time with the rage she’d been stuffing down all night. “Since when have you ever put anything or anyone before yourself? I truly expected a better excuse.”

_”You,_ Marisa,” he finally snapped, all but growling to match the leopard. “I have _always_ put you first.”

A scoff began working its way up her throat when he grabbed her chin and jerked her face toward his, fingers pinching skin to bone. “I have done everything you have ever asked of me. Don’t you dare try to pretend as though you don’t know that.”

Nails biting into his wrist, she met his venom equally. “You’re a self-serving asshole who came to me with base, selfish intentions. You want to talk about duty? Your duty should be to our family.”

”So should yours, but that hasn’t stopped _you_, has it?” Asriel bit back, releasing her like she was on fire and nodding to Lynx, who was still fast asleep in his arms, none the wiser to his quickly devolving parents. “Even after everything that’s happened this last year, after _being_ a mother, you’re still content to destroy lives even if it costs you your own family. For _ambition.”_

Only able to manage a small shrug, she forced herself to laugh through the admittance, “Oh, no, you see turning this around on me won’t work this time. I’m not the one who pledged my life to yours under false pretenses. Who lied and manipulated my way into your heart so you could get your turn at revenge.”

It was like watching glass ice over, the way the color slipped from his cheeks and bled out between them.

“Is that what you think? That I married you to get back at you?” A ragged breath shook him. “Where the hell did you go, today? Who has you thinking all this?”

Meeting his darting eyes, she said very simply, “I spoke with Melinda.”

_ The afternoon sun cast a warm sensation along her skin as she moved along the sidewalk, pushing Lynx in his carrier through the park. Having dismissed Ms. Taylor for the walk, she brought Lynx with her, a particular park at a particular time in mind. _

_ “Do you mind if I sit here?” _

_ The fair haired woman on the bench looked up with a bright smile that quickly faded upon settling on her. _

_ “Marisa,” she said, her startled demeanor shifting into one of plain discomfort._

_ Taking Lynx up and into her lap as she sat, she adjusted his ruffled, navy shirt and began, “It’s such a beautiful day, isn’t it, Melinda?” _

_ “Uh, yes,” Melinda hesitated, the dark sparrow on the back of the bench moving to her opposite shoulder so quickly it caused a spike of deep pleasure at already having the woman unnerved. “Quite.” _

_ “Lynx enjoys walks outside so much, I thought this might be nice before we head back to Oxford.” She turned her gaze from her son to Melinda with a smile. “My daughter tends to occupy most of my time so I appreciate any moment I can get him alone.” _

_ Melinda returned her expression with a little more enthusiasm. “How old is she now?” _

_ “Nearly ten,” she replied, unable to help the little swell of pride every time she spoke of Lyra aloud, before asking with a nod, “And yours?” _

_ Melinda cast her gaze to the red haired girl spinning a few yards from them as her daemon’s form shifted nearly so quickly the eye could barely catch half of them. “Two.” _

_ “Ah, she’s lovely. Takes after her father quite a bit, doesn’t she?” _

_ “Oh yes,” Melinda laughed, now seeming more relaxed. “I wonder at times if there’s any of me in her.” _

_ “Lyra’s the same. She looks so like Asriel that if I hadn’t spent seven hours in labor I’d think I never birthed her.” _

_ Melinda smiled softly again, but remained quiet as she gazed after her daughter. _

_ “It’s an odd thing how the love for them forms,” she added, brushing Lynx’s dark hair back as he fumbled with the necklace at her chest. “They capture us and take every ounce of our being.” She smiled when he looked up at her and squealed with laughter. “I would have never thought myself a mother, but now that I am, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to see them safe and happy.” _

_ As Melinda continued her agreement, she turned with a more pointed stare. “What about you, Melinda? Is there anything you wouldn’t do to protect your child?” _

_ Gray eyes shifted to her, the wariness returning quickly. “I-“ _

_ “Because it would be such a shame for something to befall such a... sweet little thing, wouldn’t it? Especially if your focus was elsewhere and not on her?” _

_ “I’m not sure what you mean, Marisa.” _

_ Tilting her head side to side, she carried on as though she were still speaking of the weather, “Well, for example, your involvement with my husband.” She held the woman’s gaze intently, daring her to look away. “I’d say that sort of focus might draw unnecessary attention to your family, wouldn’t you?” _

_ The way Melinda’s face drew back and paled sent a thrill through her, which only grew as Oz leapt to the back of the bench, startling both the woman and her daemon with his sudden appearance. _

_“I assure you I have no idea what you mean,” Melinda chuckled, though it rang everything but true. “I’m not even sure I’ve ever met Asriel.” _

_ “Am I the sort of person you think you should lie to, darling? That I would come here like some pitiful housewife searching for answers?” Melinda sat straighter as her sparrow slapped his wings and whispered at her ear. “I’m here because I already know; have evidence of your involvement.” _

_ “I’m not having an affair with your husband-“ _

_ “Of course not,” she scoffed, nearly rolling her eyes as she pushed aside Oz’s knowing gaze, his little reminder that she’d already succumbed to that particular line of thought. “If that were the case, there would be no conversation as you and your daughter would have already felt the repercussions of such a miscalculated mistake.” _

_ At that, Melinda stood and called for her daughter. “I won’t be threatened, Marisa. Do you know who my husband is?” _

_ “Oh, very well,” she mused, hardly moved by the woman’s sudden confidence. “I imagine your involvement with Asriel and Arnold Craft might interest him.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Perhaps, we should go have a conversation with him?” _

_ When Melinda only stared slack jawed at her, all cheeriness slipped from her tone. “Sit down.” _

_ The girl was now at her mother’s side, green eyes staring at Oz curiously. _

_ “Now, Melinda, for the sake of your child’s safety and security, you will tell me what you know about this... venture my husband is involved in.” _

_ “And if I deny knowing anything? You’re not exactly known for your mercy, Marisa.” _

_ “You have my assurance that if you give me the answers I seek, I will leave this park and never darken your door again. Tell me what I want to know about my husband,” she weighed her head back and forth with a thin smile. “And yours will never know what a conniving little bird it is that he really married.” _

_ “I-“ Melinda held her daughter close as she seemed to search for a means of escape by looking around the park. “I can’t.” _

_ “Arnold Craft has been arrested along with Cynthia Adams, one of your friends, isn’t she?” _

_ “They’re-“ Melinda shook her head as the wheels clearly shifted behind her eyes. “No, I just saw Cynthia a few days ago, I would have heard-“ _

_ “The Magisterium raided Craft’s apartment and found evidence of his dealings. Whatever you and Asriel are involved in is crumbling, Melinda. Tell me now, and I assure you, when arrests are made, your name will be left out of it. Lie to me and I give you equal assurance that not even regret will be able to find you.” _

_ “Why not just ask, Asriel?” _

_ Struck with silence for the first time, she adjusted a squirming Lynx as a red fox Flora gave a high pitched bark from the ground, calling to him. “Who says I haven’t?” _

_ “You’re afraid, aren’t you?” Melinda mused. “Yours is a special case, not as black and white as the rest of us.” _

_ “And what does that mean?” _

_ “The arranged marriages and affairs,” Melinda clarified, leaving her to restrain a frown. “Craft and the others... realized how easy it would be to slip in and gain information if we played the long game and seduced our way in. It’s brilliant really. He’s chosen us all so well. Who better to spy than the unsuspecting wife like myself? Or the mistress they confess everything to over pillow talk?” Melinda laughed. “Or better yet, the lover of a scorned and under appreciated wife; a man willing and ready to listen to the ramblings she devolves into about her husband’s time consuming work? Craft has strategically been placing us within range of influential members of the Magisterium along with the politicians in their pockets for years. We were all chosen specifically with strict orders to gather what intel we could to pass along.” _

_ Clarity began to come as the picture took shape. “And what is this spy ring’s ultimate goal?” _

_ “What most of the people want; to see the Magisterium collapse from within.” Melinda shrugged as though it were obvious. “Your friends are people just like everyone else. They have their vices and sins. All it takes is the implication for most to fall. For others, it will be exposing what the Magisterium really is... corrupt, self serving; only out to protect its image and maintain control of people they deem insignificant and weak.” _

_ “And Asriel?” she quipped impatiently, already tired of the morally upright tone. _

_ Melinda met her gaze with a softness she wasn’t sure she liked. “It was Craft who brought Asriel in some odd years ago. Not many know about his involvement. We all know there are a number of us out there, but very few actually know more than their own personal contact. Those who do know about Asriel thought he was too closely monitored to be of much service, but Craft insisted that his passionate vendetta against the Magisterium’s hold would be a valuable asset. People have always listened to Asriel and Craft knew that voice would be needed when the time came. Admittedly, after _ _years of watching him coerce people into giving him support, I can see why Craft wanted him so badly.” _

_ So could she. Asriel was nothing if not persuasive. The many proposals and heavy handed hints washed through her memories drawing her to her next question. “Are you trying to say our marriage was arranged?” _

_The very idea of it was preposterous, but Melinda’s sigh was enough to have self doubt creeping under her skin. “No, which is why your case is so special.” _

_ “Special?” _

_ “When he was brought on board, Asriel was meant to be a loner, the occasional lover. The exposure of your first affair did more than thrust the two of you into the open to be ridiculed. It created jealousy, curiosity. Asriel’s a very charismatic and attractive man. Craft thought he would be better suited to snippets of forbidden pillow talk than marriage which suited him as the man looks at everything as one big chess game and he was content to do that for a time.”_

_ A heavy sigh that could have had a laugh mixed in left Melinda, who was now placating her daughter by allowing her to sit between them as she became enthralled with Lynx, her kitten daemon playfully pawing at Flora’s fox form. _

_ “Asriel grows easily bored.” _

_  
“That wasn’t it,” Melinda replied, brushing her hair back as she resumed her story. “He was actually very good at coercing information out of people. I think he enjoyed the fact that he could loosen their lips and draw out their secrets. The problem arose when we discovered your exact involvement within the Magisterium and the research license they’d granted you. At the murmurs of human trials, Craft decided to send someone in to spy on you, to gather intel on what you were doing in the North.” _

_Of course, she thought as her heart seemed to squeeze. Asriel had appeared at the same time as Dr. Fields in London, fully admitting he’d spoken with the man regarding her research. “And so he sent Asriel to seduce me?” _

_ “No, exactly the opposite,” Melinda laughed. “He sent Ross Becker.” _

_ It was like being doused with ice water. “Ross?” she asked incredulously, sure the woman had misspoken. “But...” _

_ The satisfaction Melinda took at her bafflement would have infuriated her any other day if she weren’t struggling to form coherent thoughts. _

_”As I said before, we’re everywhere. Ross’ father is very deep within the Magisterium’s agenda and he sees it for what it is.” _

_ Mind reeling, objections began to form and dissolve as quickly as they’d come. Behind her, she felt Oz bristle with a soft growl that not one, but two of her lovers had been sent to manipulate her. _

_ “Asriel insisted he would take care of you personally, but Craft wouldn’t hear of it, said he was too close to the situation and stood to ruin everything if caught. However, Craft realized fairly quickly that Asriel wouldn’t back down where you were concerned even with the claim that no one wanted to see you lose everything more than him. So, he placated Asriel by sending him North to conduct his own investigation into your facility. Craft knew he was on borrowed time so long as Asriel was out of the picture. So, in the meanwhile, Ross was sent to you with instructions to do whatever was necessary to get close to you as quickly as possible.” Melinda paused to fix her daughter’s dress which was caught on the bench. “When Asriel finally returned from the North, he and Craft nearly came to blows over the whole thing with Asriel storming out. We were sure he was finished with us, but it wasn’t until he walked in with snippets from your personal journals that we realized Asriel had created the urgent reasons for Ross’ leaving the country and had taken his place in your bed.” _

_ Heart beginning to beat a little faster, she held Lynx tighter as he attempted to crawl from her lap to the ground. Asriel’s showing up unexpectedly at her party made much more sense now. He hadn’t been there for MacPhail at all. He’d been there solely to steal from and manipulate her; to fuck her into submission._

_“Of course, Craft was furious. Asriel had jeopardized the whole operation by running off half cocked, but even he couldn’t deny that Asriel had done in one evening what Ross hadn’t been able to do in months._ _Asriel insisted he could continue the supply with you remaining unaware, but concerns about your shared history arose and it was decided that when Ross returned, Asriel was to leave you be and allow Ross to resume course with you. Asriel agreed, and in hindsight, I suppose we should have taken note of how easily he’d done so for within just a short time later you were announcing your engagement not to Ross, but to Asriel.”_

_ She felt as though she was going to be sick. It all made sense, like the final pieces of a puzzle suddenly coming together. Asriel showing up unexpectedly. His knowledge of her research. Using Lyra to lower her guard. Stealing her spare key to return to her apartment whenever he pleased. His absolute relentless pursuit of marriage. He’d broken her completely down without her ever being the wiser. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d purposefully gotten her pregnant, too. To force the marriage he’d been seeking. With the ring he’d already had at the ready. _

_ Abruptly standing, Lynx gave a whine as Flora fell from his lap to the ground, shifting from fox to moth in the blink of an eye to prevent the crash. _

_ “And Asriel has continued to supply you all this time?” she abruptly asked, eyes blazing at the woman. “With my files? My research?”  
  
_

_ Her controlled facade was quickly diminishing the more she digested how deeply Asriel’s duplicity ran.  _

_“Craft is a brilliant scientist. He understands what you’re doing better than most and how significant your success would be to the Magisterium and how detrimental it would be to the rest of society. He wanted to monitor your progress personally despite Asriel’s insistence that he could manage the information.” Melinda shrugged. “While no one could ever doubt Asriel’s hatred for the Magisterium,_ _we also knew, eventually, a choice would have to be made between the cause and you. __With your shared history and growing family, he didn't trust Asriel to be impartial when the time came, even with Asriel’s claim that your marriage was just business.”_

_ Unable to keep the tremble out of her hands, she clutched Lynx close and shushed his little cries to be let go. _

_“To be fair, Marisa, when it comes to you, we’ve all found Asriel to be as unpredictable as the wind.”_

“Melinda?” Asriel laughed, running a hand down his face. “How do you even- Did you threaten her, Marisa?”

Smoothing a hand over the front of her dress, she evened out her breathing and met his wild eyes, her own steady and calm. “That woman should hardly be your concern right now.”

“My concern?” he parroted, chest rising and receding in quick successions. “My concern is that my wife has lost her fucking mind. Melinda isn’t-“

”Arnold Craft has been arrested along with another of your little friends, Cynthia Adams.” She squared her jaw as his eyes gave way to his surprise. “So, yes, darling, your concern should certainly be a little closer to home as they’ll no doubt be coming for you when they break Craft and he begins spilling names.”

”They?” Asriel’s face had finally regained a little color and the storm had returned, redoubled. “You mean those vultures who’ve judged you for your _sin_ while some of them carry on in a worse manner? Why the fuck are you always on their side, Marisa?”

“That’s not-”

Lynx jolted at Asriel’s rising tone, his eyes snapping open followed quickly by a building sob which prompted Flora to appear from his shirt, seeming panicked as she pressed into his neck, shifting between forms rapidly.

“Give him to me,” she murmured on instinct, already reaching out to take Lynx before he squirmed right out of Asriel’s arms and woke Lyra.

However, Asriel folded his shoulder forward to block her gesture, his other arm cradling Lynx close to his chest as he took to his feet and began rocking him.

While the childish action irritated her, the distance at least allowed her some mild relief and, as she watched him sway with their son, she attempted to gather and resort her thoughts. She was getting no where fast.  
  


As Asriel paced the area in front of her, Stel moved toward the door, her snout at the crack where the shadow of her daemon paced back and forth.

“The fact that you’re so shocked is the most surprising part to me. I told you I wouldn’t sacrifice my beliefs.” He turned, Lynx still whimpering, and glared at her, blue eyes teeming with indignation. “Unlike you, I am not content to let Lyra grow up in a world where she has to set aside everything she loves to fit a preset mold; to let Lynx sink into twisted ideologies that he’s better than his sister and mother because he has a cock.”

Gripping the edge of the bench, she scoffed to cover the jab. “Is that what you think this is about, Asriel? You hating the Magisterium isn’t news to anyone and the fact that you’re in some half assed underground organization is hardly worth a side glance as I’ve known that for months.”

His stillness prompted her to throw him a hard look.

”If you want to know why I’m ready to slit your throat, why don’t you answer the question you so inelegantly side stepped.”

Rather than cave, his jaw tightened and he doubled down. “What did Melinda say to you? What happened with Craft?”

Snapping to her feet, she snarled, “Stop worrying about them and answer _my_ _fucking_ question.”

He swallowed, and the silence was so stark in the room she heard the spit swish in his mouth as he attempted to gather enough of it to even wet his throat. Then, he shifted Lynx, who’d finally quieted, and laughed. “Your question isn’t worth an answer. You know why I married you.”

”Of course, _love,”_ she spat, the word soured on her tongue. “You’ve always claimed that’ll fix everything, haven’t you? But what has it actually ever done for me, Asriel? This grand love we supposedly have got me pregnant with an illegitimate child, killed my husband, destroyed my life, and left me riddled with shame; spat upon like some useless body everyone assumed you used and discarded.” She flung a hand toward him. “But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You had to come back and do it all over again. You sat there and plotted the best way to fuck me over for the _second_ time.”

He made a move to step toward her, the shake of his head already asserting his denial before the words ever formed on his tongue. “Marisa-“

“What I can’t seem to wrap my mind around is how you knew I’d give into you that night when you came to me about MacPhail? We had avoided each other for six years and you just...” Her throat felt like it was under personal attack. “Or was it just another game? A test to see if you could still get under my skin?” She held up a hand. “I mean, you must really have thought me so weak that you could just walk in and... and I’d just... let you.”

Which she had. Again and again without question. That was the worst part. She’d never suspected him of anything, which was why she now doubted everything.

The way he sank back, his heat retracting all at once, left her breathless. “I came to you because you love me, Marisa. You always have. All I did was let you.”

Eyes drifting from his as she nodded, she blinked a few times and sucked in a breath through her lips. “And the photogram of Lyra? I suppose you expect me to believe that wasn’t pre-planned, too?”

At that, he at last had the decency to look guilty. “When I returned from the North and learned what Craft had done, that he’d sent Ross to... I forged a letter that sent him away and came to you the night he left.” The way his eyes beseeched her left her sick to her stomach, that he thought all this was fine. “To be honest, I only brought up Lyra to get under your skin and when you nearly stabbed me at having let her be adopted, I realized I’d underestimated how much I thought I knew about you and her. So, yes, Marisa, that was a test, but I won’t apologize for using every device within my power to break through to you.”

He took a step forward and reached out to press a hand to her neck. “I know you were planning to use Ross to your advantage, but what he was about to do to you... He was going to take everything from you and you’d been through enough without him destroying the last thing you truly held dear.”

The scoff that escaped her was likely the most undignified sound she’d ever made. “Like you care about my work.”

He recoiled, his face a tale of bafflement. “If you can’t see that I’ve done all this to protect you-”

  
“Protect me?” She shoved his hand away. “You’ve _stolen_ from me, Asriel. _Lied_ to me. And now you want me to say thank you?”

”That’s not-”

The denial finally got the best of her and she snapped, shoving him back with a hand to the center of his chest. “Why can’t you just admit it?”

At Lynx jumping again, she flinched and swallowed any further outbursts for fear her son would begin wailing and wake the whole house. With a quick step forward, she disregarded Asriel’s wounded gaze and kissed Lynx’s forehead with murmurs of soft comforts.

When his sparkling blue eyes caught sight of her, he began stretching his arms out, the volume of his cries growing. Thankfully, Asriel finally relented and let her ease Lynx into her arms.

“It’s alright,” she promised, bouncing him gently as she pressed him against her shoulder so she could whisper in his ear. “Shh.”

Lynx squirmed, his cheeks splotched as he twisted his fingers around her hair and rubbed his face against her shoulder, little whimpers still permeating the nursery as he fought between fear and drowsiness. She could only imagine how he felt, being woken out of a dead sleep, caught between his two fuming parents.

“Mama’s got you,” she whispered, rubbing his back and kissing his cheek. “Shh.”

As she walked around the room, rocking Lynx back to sleep, she caught Asriel’s eyes and had to force herself not to react. Her husband looked like he was very near to tears himself as he took his seat back at the window and hunched over, his head propped in his hands.

  
Eyes falling closed, she gathered Lynx tighter to herself and forced herself not to take up his mantle of sobbing misery.

  
“This wasn’t about our family, Asriel. You married me so Ross couldn’t. This was about you being worried your favorite toy didn’t get taken from you.”

“I married you because I love you,” he insisted, tossing up his hands and lurching back to his feet. “For fucks sake, Marisa, I made a deal with Craft to keep your name out of the wrong hands when everything blows up.”

Taken aback, she knew she was staring at him dumbly as the confession bounced against every side of her skull.

”When the Magisterium falls and those bastards are held accountable for all the misery they’ve dealt, you will be allowed to walk away without so much as a question.” He closed the distance between them as his voice lowered again. “Craft was going to arrange it so it seemed like you were feeding him information instead of me.”

At a loss, she searched his face for any trace of duplicity. ”Why would he do that?”

”Because I’m valuable to him,” he admitted, hands cupping her neck as his eyes danced between hers. He looked every part the madman with nothing to lose. “And you, my love, are valuable to me. I promised him if he just gave me enough time, I would turn you.”

”Turn me?” She laughed, dragging herself away from his touch. “What? You thought you’d get me to throw all my hard work aside and join you and your merry band of misfits?”

  
Asriel rolled his eyes. “I _thought_ I could show you we’d never have a real life together so long as you stay in bed with the Magisterium. We were only going to last so long while being at odds, Marisa.”

Like sap from a tree, the entire day had done nothing but slowly drain the energy from her body; the life long arsenal she’d stored for attacks like this depleted and, for all intents and purposes, broken beyond repair. She felt empty. Not pain, not anger, not anything. Just plain blankness. Asriel was gnawing at nothing but bone at this point.

“I trusted you, Asriel,” she murmured, smoothing her hands up and down Lynx’s back as he still tugged at her hair, fighting sleep. “And in return you used me... used _Lyra_ to manipulate me.” At that thought, she laughed again, sure she was on the verge of losing her mind right along with her husband. “You... every fight we’ve had... you’ve been steadily trying to sway me, haven’t you? All your pretty words about our future... you’ve always had an ulterior motive.” 

He at least had the decency to stop trying to touch her. Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared like he was the one who was misunderstood.

“You can be as angry as you like with me. I have misled and manipulated you, but I won’t apologize for any of it. To apologize is to say I regret what we have and I won’t do it. If I hadn’t done this, Ross would already have exposed you.”

”I don’t care about Ross,” she replied, exhaustion lapping at her body as the burn around her eyes started becoming too distracting to ignore. “I care that I thought we had a future together; that we would raise our children and work side by side, not _against_ each other.”

Like he’d sensed a weak spot, he was upon her again with one brisk step, his hands laying claim to her neckline. ”We _do_ have a future, my love.” He worried his thumbs along her jawline. “Our life isn’t over.”

“Not if this comes out, not if-“

”I promise you,” he pressed, calling her eyes to his as his frustrations leaked out. “Please, just... your passion is beautiful, Marisa, but they don’t deserve you. Everything you do for them is scrutinized while they diminish your brilliance. Even if you succeed, your project completes, and you change the world as you think you will, no one will give you thanks. They’ll take it and utilize it for themselves.”

  
Eyes falling closed, she shook her head.

”And what will you have in the end as your reward? No recognition, no husband, and Lyra... she admires you so much, my love, but one day she’s going to learn of the things you’ve done and I worry over the outcome of it. She’s too pure to accept your ideologies.”

Fury swept her as she stepped out of his grasp and the web he’d attempted to weave around her. “Stop twisting this!” she hissed. “Craft had more of my research than anyone else. Our marriage was a business deal to you, Asriel.”

”You’re a big fish, Marisa.” Asriel held out his hands in surrender. “They wouldn’t have let you just walk away unscathed just because of who I am. I had to give him something or our deal would have been void.”

”Turn me or leave me. Is that the ultimate goal?”

He stood straight at that, his tired eyes on Lynx. “There were times I thought I had you, but when Lyra was nearly taken and you still didn’t relent, I knew turning you was hopeless. It was clear that it didn’t matter what I said, you’d never give the Magisterium up.”

Eyes burning, she murmured, “That’s why you left me.”

“I needed to clear my head; to come up with a new plan before Craft cornered me. I had been giving him scraps, snippets of your research while trying to convince him you were still in the infant stages, but with more and more children going missing lately, he started to demand the full reports. I knew it was only a matter of time with your new blade, so I began delaying giving him any of your latest findings because I knew he would pressure me to make a decision to leave you. But then...” He gestured toward her. “We saw each other in London and... I couldn’t stay away from you.” He shrugged like he really couldn’t find any other words. “And because of my failure at delivering you’re cooperation, Craft told me you were finished, that he’d expose your research.”

”That’s why you were arguing,” she concluded. “It was about me.”

”I told him if he exposed you, I’d make sure every contact he’d procured would quickly follow.” Asriel shrugged. “So, he reconciled that I could take care of a few other targets, instead. Find out what they were up to.”

“So, he gave you the coordinates to the other facilities.”

“I knew you saw it.” He sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “That’s why you’ve been so distant since London.”

”I’ve been distant because I was reminded that the only person I can rely on is myself. You’re standing here acting like I should just let it go when you broke us, Asriel.”

”None of this would have happened period if you hadn’t broken us first!” he snapped, jolting forward and prompting both she and Lynx to flinch as Stel paused scratching at the nursery door to turn with a growl. “Have you forgotten that all of this, from the very beginning, is your fault? How you destroyed me after Edward, Marisa?” He threw his hands up. “I spent _years_ telling myself I hated you, I gave up our child because of you, and you... you carried on like none of it mattered... with Boreal and Authority knows who else.” He flung a hand at her. “Then, you came to Jordan and I showed you how easy it would be to start over, to raise Lyra together, but you just... threw us away a second time for the _fucking_ Magisterium.”

When Lynx’s whimpers began growing, Asriel relented and stuffed his hands in his pockets again, the fire dying in his eyes enough to allow her some relief as the aching tension of her body only furthered her exhaustion. If they kept going back and forth like this, she wasn’t sure she’d last.

“Asriel.”

Asriel wiped a hand down his face and turned to Stel, who was still nipping at the door.

“Don’t,” she murmured, already knowing where the two of them had shifted their thoughts, but he ignored her as he moved toward the door. “I don’t want him in here.”

  
“That’s too fucking bad,” he smarted, swinging the door open just enough for Oz, who darted in as though the door might unexpectedly close before he fully entered.

Stel practically purred as his golden arms encircled her neck, his blue face hidden in the thickest portion of her silver fur. The contrasts of their shades never ceased to draw even her eyes, averse as she was to him being present to betray her innermost desires.

”He belongs here with us,” Asriel commented, scratching Stel’s head before smoothing his hands down between her ears and over her neck to where her daemon clung. The moment Asriel touched him, she felt it wash though her; the invasion of warmth shooting right down her spine.

“In the beginning, there was a part of me that wanted to get back at you. I had every intention of pilfering your research and handing it all over to Craft, but that isn’t what happened in the end. I-“ His throat bobbed as he stood and shrugged. “You’d think I would’ve learned by now that it’s always been easier to imagine I hate you when you’re not standing in front of me.”

The knot in her throat seemed as though it was there to stay. Shaking her head, she turned to the crib and gently eased Lynx down, covering him with soft whispers as his eyes fluttered.

She needed out, a moment to gather her thoughts, to conjure something to carry her through this. Leaning against the crib, she combed her fingers through Lynx’s soft, dark hair.

“I suppose he was just business, too.”

His presence was stifling as he edged up beside her, his hands wrapping around the wood of the crib.

“Hardly.” Folding his arms along the rail, he, too, leaned against the crib. “By the time you told me you were pregnant, I’d already fallen in too deep. There was no going back for me.” She could feel his eyes tracing her. “In my defense, without him, you admittedly would never have married me and we wouldn’t have either one of them.”

Eyes falling closed, she rested her head in her hand. They were getting no where. “That’s not the point.”

A beat of silence passed and then he asked, “How did you even know Melinda’s name?”

How her shoulders ached. “Boreal told me at the Christmas party.”

“Fucking snake,” he muttered. “And then Melinda told you about Craft.”

”Actually, Marcel did.”

”Perfect,” he murmured, gripping the side of the crib as he hunched over, staring at the floor. “Just what I need.”

Releasing a heavy breath, she sighed, “He suspects it’s you who’s giving Craft information about me. He brought me the files Craft had on my research and I... with everything else, I just knew it was you and decided to have Melinda confirm it.”

There was a longer pause then. The one that preceded the inevitable harder questions.

“If they find out what you’ve done-”

”Craft won’t break. His belief in the mission is too strong.”

”Craft wasn’t the only one arrested.” At this, she turned to stare at him, but his eyes were still on the floor as though it held the answers. “Do you know her? Cynthia?”

”If Craft chose her, she’ll be fine.” His reassurance was hardly that.

”She’s twenty six years old and a mother of a three year old boy.”

Asriel lifted his head, brow furrowed. “And?”

“You’re so oblivious sometimes,” she whispered, looking back to Lynx, who’d finally stilled. “I’d have laughed at anyone who thought they could break me a few years ago.”

”They still couldn’t.” The honesty made her smile, sad as it was. At least, he didn’t think her entirely weak.

”Oh, but they could.” She reached out and brushed Lynx’s cheek. “So easily and with so little effort. I doubt Craft accounted for a mother’s love when he placed her.”

Asriel paused at that and she could feel him studying her, probably filing that weakness away, too. “If you’re worried she’ll give up my name, she won’t. I’ve never met her. Craft arranged it so very few of us actually know of each other.”

”All it takes is one.” Eyes leaving Lynx, she met his, hoping to impress upon him the direness of this situation. “She gives up a name and then that one gives up a name... and then they have you.”

”Marisa-“

”There’s little that can be done now,” she said with finality, until the next thought that trickled through her mind felt like enough vindication to give it life. “I mean, _I_ could turn you in. Save myself.”

Asriel stood up, his unimpressed expression almost enough to make her laugh. Almost.

”What am I supposed to think of you now?” She resumed placing her head in her hands as she stared down at Lynx. “I can’t breathe without you, but I can’t stand to look at you either. I suppose what it boils down to is you’re just yet another man in my life who’s used me for his own gain. My father, Marcel, Edward... but at least I never loved them.”

“Something if you recall, you only recently admitted.”

  
Picking up her head, she shot him a look of loathing. “And because I wouldn’t admit I loved you, that gave you the right to play games with our life?”

  
An annoyed noise accompanied his rebuttal. “Why wouldn’t I, Marisa? Can you honestly stand there and say you wouldn’t have done the same thing? You’re the one who usually starts the games. You’re just angry you’re on the other side of it this time.”

“Once again, that’s not the point. We’re not children anymore, Asriel. You betrayed me. It’s as simple as that.”

”No, it is the point,” he pressed, quick as a whip taking her by the arm and spinning her into his chest. “And I didn’t betray you.”

”You-”

”I _thought_ about it,” he cut in snappily. “But it remained just that, a _thought_.” He chuckled and looked her over. “I guess when it comes to destroying my lovers, I’m just not as good as you at follow through.”

Indignant, she tried to shove him off only to be held firm, with him going so far as to shift and press her forward into the crib as he wrapped his arms around hers from behind, completely caging her in.

”Look at him and tell me you regret him.”

An elbow to his gut got a growl from him, but he only tightened his hold, forcing her to bite, “Don’t be an idiot.” She had only enough fight left in her to dig her nails into his forearms. “And stop acting as though you haven’t forgiven me. That was forever ago.”

”I did. As despicable and heartless as you were, I forgave you everything and now you can do the same.” He pressed into her neck, his breath warm, creating an averse reaction to how she felt internally. “If you want to punish me for something I barely even did in the first place, then by all means, do so. But then forgive me and let us move on.”

”Even if I did think you deserved it, that doesn’t solve the larger issue.”

“There is no larger issue than us,” he murmured into her ear.

”They could be on their way for you right now.” Why couldn’t he grasp that? “They could kick down our door and take you.”

Abruptly spun around, she found herself face to face with her lover, his eyes narrowed as he kept her caged. “Cynthia doesn’t know me-”

”But she knows Melinda,” she insisted, twisting his shirt at his waist and drawing him closer. “And Melinda would sacrifice you for her daughter, Asriel.”

It was like watching literal gears turn in the blue of his gaze as his eyes darted between hers, a deep set frown steadily appearing on his brow.

“What am I supposed to tell our children, Asriel?” All of a sudden, she wanted him tied to her as the panic arose again. “If they take you, I- I’ll... what am I supposed to do?”

His hands, large but gentle, cupped her cheeks. “No one is taking me from you, Marisa.”

”We have to- We have to fix it.”

Possibilities bounced around her brain, none sticking well enough.

“We could leave.”

All thought ceasing, she looked up at him. “What?”

Thumbs stroking her skin, he elaborated, “The four of us... we could leave, let it blow over.”

  
“Leave?”

”You’re more important to me than the Magisterium. I’ll let it go if you do.”

  
Eyes dancing over him, she realized he was serious. He wanted to run away. A light breathy laugh escaped her. “Absolutely not.”

”Marisa-”

Pushing him back enough to garner some breathing room, she reiterated, “This is our home, Asriel.”

“We can make a home anywhere.”

Nearly rolling her eyes, she asked, “And what would we tell Lyra? She has school and friends.”

”Lyra hates that school and those girls. Besides that, her summer break is in two weeks. She’d see it as an adventure.”

“You’ve lost your mind if you think for a minute I’ll consent to this. Lynx was born in this house. It’s Lyra first real home with us. Our life is here, Asriel.”

His hands fell from her as he took a step back, his frown returning. “So, you’re going to choose the Magisterium again.”

Matching his expression, she gave an incredulous laugh. “Did you not hear what I just said? This has nothing to do with them.”

“You’re not sentimental, Marisa.” He shook his head and wiped a hand down his face. “You hate sappiness.”

“Maybe I’ve changed.”

Dropping his hand, he laughed again, albeit almost pitifully. “No. You just want what you want. Control of everything.”

“Hmm.” Looking away from him, her eyes caught sight of their daemons again, still enveloped, their eyes trained on them like they were waiting to be ripped apart. “You should leave.”

The quiet of the room drew her eyes back to his absolute stillness, his gaze having followed hers to their daemons and remaining there.

”Go do what Craft wanted. Track the other facilities. It’ll give me time to clean up your mess.”

Hands shoving in his pockets, he finally looked back to her, his gaze harder than ice. “And how will you do that?”

With a deep breath, she closed the space between them and lingered just short of kissing him.

“As you’re so keen on always reminding me, my love,” she whispered, eyes and voice steady. “I’m Marisa Coulter. I do whatever the fuck I want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s been forever, but I’m back. It took me forever to figure out how this would play out. It’s reached that point where things start tying together and I have to hope and pray I haven’t contradicted myself or twisted up all my plots. I’m not sure if I’m thrilled with it, but... I’ve stared at it for literal weeks. I added a ton just now, half asleep, so I pray I have no major typos. I hope no one hates it!


	28. The Start to a Chaotic Celebration

“Shh,” she laughed, eyes crinkling as she watched her son, who was repeatedly mumbling ‘Mama’ like she hadn’t heard him the first dozen times, his chunky little hand patting all over her face as he hovered above her, attempting to get her attention in all the best ways his active little mind could manage.

Ever since he’d started with his first word a few weeks prior, she’d felt absolutely helpless to resist him or the little faces he’d make as he said it. From serious to bright and cheery to tears streaming down his face mid tantrum, he’d used it at least a few hundred times already and she was in no hurry to hear him utter anything different.

With a grin, she quickly popped a kiss to his cheek which caused him to laugh even louder, blue eyes shining bright, and jamming his hand to her mouth.

“Mamamama,” he squealed, mimicking her with his own wet kiss on the cheek.

“Shh,” she chuckled, sealing her lips to keep his fingers out of her mouth.

“Mamama,” he pressed, wallowing all over her as his cheeks reddened with his early morning energy.

”You’re going to wake the whole house,” she whispered, swiping a hand through his unruly curls, which were sticking out every which way.

He was in sore need of a haircut with the thick black hair hanging over his eyes and ears. However, there was a small part of her that resisted the idea that he’d grown enough to warrant one and had been steadfastly putting it off.

As though she’d said something profoundly funny, he laughed and began babbling at her in earnest before his daemon caught his attention, shifting from a baby cheetah to a dragonfly and taking flight.

  
Of course, with the young daemon now flitting back and forth above them, dazzling shades of blue on display, Lynx began attempting to stand.

With her hand to steady him, he continued to murmur, though the sounds were now closer to gibberish than anything resembling real language to anyone other than he and his daemon, which she found so intriguing she often couldn’t help but observe them, her own scientific mind taking over. It was clear as day they understood each other.

So often in her research, she’d noted the connection between child and daemon, but it was always in those much older and mature than Lynx. The youngest she’d ever documented was four, so to see how deeply the bond ran between he and his young soul even at this age, the absolute oneness of their minds, was astounding. It had been such observations that had left her abruptly spending hours in her study, rifling through books and papers, noting all the little intricacies that caught her fancy enough to investigate.

The slightest shift on her other side disrupted her musings, drawing her gaze to where Lyra still slept, eyes fluttering and mouth slightly puckered. 

Dawn had come and gone, leaving her surprised Lyra hadn’t already jumped up and woken the whole house, her anticipation for today having been boiling all week.

_”Read it again,” Lyra pleaded, sticking her hand out to keep her from shutting the book._

_Laughing softly, she set the book aside and eased an already sweating Lynx off her arm so she could adjust to face them, making sure to not wake him and endure his squirming until he fell back to sleep._

_”Mama.”_

_The groan only amused her more._

_”It’s late. I’d think you’d want to hurry to sleep so morning will come quicker.”_

_Lyra shifted to face her, too. “I can’t. I’m too wound up.” Her daughter sighed rather dramatically before asking, “Maybe you could tell me about one of your books. That always puts me right to sleep.”_

_”Ugh.” Feigning offense, she tapped Lyra’s shoulder. “Lyra Belacqua.”_

_“It’s true,” Lyra defended, eyes round and far too bright to be close to sleep. “I don’t know how you can stand to endure them. They’re so incredibly boring.”_

_After a few more beats of pouting, she propped her head on her hand and asked, “How about a story, instead?”_

_Eyes narrowed warily, Lyra questioned, “About what?”_

_Rolling her eyes, she exaggerated, “About you, of course. It is your birthday in... oh, about three hours.”_

_”Three?” Lyra perked up. “It’s only an hour until midnight.”_

_”Yes, but you were born about two hours past midnight.”_

_Interest peeked, Lyra asked, ”Was it really as terrible as you said before?”_

_”The worst,” she assured, casting an eye to Oz, who was at the foot of the bed, both of her children’s daemons stretched out in his arms; one a small, soft hedgehog fast asleep and the other a brown otter, who’s attention was now fixed on her as well._

_”I’m sorry.”_

_The small apology returned her attention to her daughter. Pressing a palm to Lyra’s cheek, she shook her head at the notion. “I wouldn’t trade it for the whole world.”_

_At that, Lyra relaxed and snuggled closer, wrapping an arm around Lynx. “Tell me more.”_

_”Well, it was storming,” she began, then paused with a lifted eyebrow at her often exasperating daughter. “Naturally.”_

_  
At the expected grin, she proceeded to take Lyra through the first few hours of labor and her denial that she was really going to be a mother sooner rather than later. “And then you were in my arms and I... I’ve never been more engrossed with anything the way I was with you in those first moments.”_

_Clearly lost in thought, Lyra stared at her hands. “Do you think... do you ever think about what it’d have been like if you’d kept me?”_

_”Only every day.”_

_A world of emotion passed through Lyra’s features, her eyebrows working overtime as she chewed at her lip. Then, Lyra sighed and looked back up to her. “There’s no more to the story.”_

_Reaching out, she curled Lyra’s hair over her ear. “What do you mean, my love?”_

_A quietness washed over the room as Lyra chewed at her bottom lip, brow furrowed in deep concentration as she fixed Lynx’s dark hair in much the same manner she’d just arranged hers._

_“There’s no one who can tell me my first word or who remembers my first steps.” A pitiful sound came from her daughter before she shrugged. “No one cared about me when I was little like Lynx.”_

_How she wished she could go back and slap her younger self. What could she say that she hadn’t already? How could she ever apologize enough to fill the void so evidently still etched in her daughter’s heart?_

_”Thats not entirely true,” she assured. “I have another story.”_

_”You do?” Lyra’s sadness was replaced with curiosity. “What is it?”_

_”Come here.” She patted the bed on her other side, carefully lifting the blankets so Lyra could slip over both she and Lynx. Once Lyra had adjusted positions, she wrapped _ _an arm around her back, encouraging her to settle close so she could hold her. “I saw you once after you were born. Your father had you hidden away in a cottage not far from here and...” She smiled and tapped Lyra’s nose. “I couldn’t resist visiting you.”_

_Lyra grinned and snuggled deeper into her shoulder. “Was father there?”_

_”Mhm. And he had a room all arranged with the most beautiful crib. He held back no expense where you were concerned.” She curled Lyra’s hair over her ear again. “He was so proud you were his daughter and kept bragging over how extraordinary he just knew you’d be.”_

_Lyra’s eyes found hers again, innocence exuding so thickly the air felt tinged with it. “Did you hold me?”_

_”I did more than that. I rocked you. You were so curious already even when you were so little.”_

_Rather than find the connection sweet, Lyra’s eyes fell, now avoiding hers as she ran her fingers over her nightgown and took to chewing her bottom lip again._

_”I know it isn’t fair that Lynx will have us there for everything, but that doesn’t mean we loved you any less, Lyra.”_

_”I know.” Lyra pulled the covers up to her chin. “It doesn’t really matter, I guess.”_

_”Of course it matters. Anything that hurts you matters.” Heart heavy, she pressed on, “I’d give anything in the world to take all of your pain into myself; to go back and give you the life I should have.”_

_”I know,” came Lyra’s low whisper, though it hardly sounded rooted in belief._

_Mind scrambling for a reprieve from the tension, she offered, ”You know, your father used to talk to you when you were in my belly.”_

_”Why?”_

_”Because he loved you -and I think- No, I know he wanted you to feel that.” With a weary sigh, she added, “I think he was afraid he’d never get to be your father and wanted all the time he could get with you.”_

_”He could be with me now, for my birthday, but he isn’t.” A twist at the blankets bore the brunt of Lyra’s frustration. “I don’t feel like he loves me right now.”_

_”Now, I know you’re much too intelligent to believe that.”_

_The wrinkle between Lyra’s eyes deepened. “Then, why hasn’t he come home? You’d never let your work keep you from my birthday. I just know it.”_

_Never before had she encountered anyone who left her as without a response as her daughter. Anyone else and she would have dismissed them with a flippant comment or witty remark, but Lyra... she could practically feel the girl’s heart weighing heavily in her palm and knew any wrong word would inflict even more pain than she and Asriel had already caused._

_”Grown ups are complicated, Lyra. You’ll understand one day. If Asriel could be here, he would.”_

_”But maybe he forgot. Did you send him a letter to remind him? You said you wanted my day to be perfect and it just won’t be if he isn’t here.”_

_Brushing Lyra’s cheek, she assured, “He wouldn’t forget your birthday.”_

_When Lyra continued to sulk, she nearly smiled at how like Asriel she looked right now. That lack of composure most certainly didn’t come from her at any rate._

_”You know he told me he thinks you’re going to change the world.”_

_”Why does he think that?”_

_Finger under Lyra’s chin, she lifted her face. “Because you’re extraordinary, Lyra Belacqua.”_

Brushing her fingers along Lyra’s warm cheek, she noted for the thousandth time the stray freckles dotting her skin, the scar blemishing her brow, the heart shape of her lips, and deep curve of her chin. Then, following the usual path her hand took when near her daughter, she tucked a few strands of dark hair over her ear and smiled when Pan gave the lowest of purrs, his gray feline form stretching out his paws over Lyra’s shoulders before falling still once more.

They were ten, today.

Ten.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d come to this very house for Asher’s funeral, Edward in tow, and succumbed to Asriel’s desperate pleas for her to remain with him. To think, if she’d just resisted him, left him as she well should have that day, Lyra might not be lying here, ten years old, safe. Looking back now, she supposed, loathe as she was to admit it even to herself, she had to be grateful for Asriel’s ability to persuade her with his pretty words.

_  
“I’d burn the world for you.”_

All the pretty words in the world couldn’t help him now, though. While she hadn’t sent a letter to remind him of Lyra’s birthday, she’d been truthful when she said he didn’t needed to be reminded. There was very little she imagined Asriel ever forgot.

It’d been three months since their confrontation and she’d heard not even the slightest whisper of his whereabouts or what he was up to. While she could pretend to everyone else that all was well and he’d be home soon, her own mind was another matter entirely.

Which was why she’d taken to allowing the children to sleep in her room. With them consuming every minute of her waking and dreaming, she found she had less time to dwell on thoughts of her wayward husband.

Flora dropping onto the bed as a lizard prompted Lynx to give a sharp squeal and jolt forward, nearly knocking the breath from her in his pursuit. Banishing thoughts of Asriel, she refocused on her children, particularly Lyra, who’d jumped at the sound of her brother.

“Lynx,” she groaned, burying her face in her pillow while Pan scooted deeper into her shoulder, his previous purr now a growl.

Unperturbed, Lynx continued to happily squirm now that he’d noticed Lyra, eager in his quest to reach his sister.

With a hand to the back of his shirt, she restrained him from pummeling Lyra and tugged him back to his side of the bed.

”So noisy,” Lyra grumbled into her pillow, attempting to burrow deeper.

Amused, she kept hold of Lynx’s shirt with one hand and rubbed Lyra’s back with the other. “He just wants to wish his big sister Happy Birthday.”

It took all of two seconds for Lyra to spring up, jolting the whole bed with her sudden wakefulness, eyes wide as she slapped her hair from her face. “It’s my birthday.”

Pan shot into the air and swooped around the room as a sparrow before lighting on Lyra’s shoulder, dancing from foot to foot.

Laughing, she said, “It is.”

Lynx squealed again and started ‘talking’ to Lyra, squirming from her hold and into Lyra’s lap, tugging himself up by her nightgown until he was standing and babbling right in her face.

”Mamamama.”

Lyra laughed and grabbed Lynx’s hands which were pawing all over her face as Pan tumbled with Flora at the foot of the bed where Oz was perched watching them warily. “Lyyyraaa. Not mama.”

”Mamamama.”

Displeasure practically rippled off Lyra as she rolled her eyes and tossed up her hands. “Forget it. He’s never going to say my name.”

Thoroughly amused, she sat up with a chuckle and leaned around Lynx to press a kiss to Lyra’s forehead. “Happy Birthday, Lyra.”

Breaking into a grin, Lyra hugged Lynx and handed him off to her before rolling from the bed.

”Where are you running off to?”  
  


“Kitchen.” Lyra backed toward the door. “Thorold promised me a surprise treat when I woke up.”

As Lyra and Pan shot out the door, she sighed and fell back with Lynx in tow. “At least you can’t run off and leave me.”

Like he understood just what she meant, he began jabbering again.

* * *

“Do you think Sally will actually come?”  
  


Glancing up from the ordeal she was having with Lynx and a handful of stray blueberries, she found Lyra twirling her own blueberry on a fork. “Do you actually want Sally to come?”

With an over dramatic sigh, Lyra nodded her head side to side, the morning sun glinting off her dark hair as she swayed. “Well, I only did it to make a point. I don’t want to fight with Sally forever. So, I just thought I’d take Grandma Madeline’s advice and kill her with kindness.”

”Hmm.”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that particular tactic, or the fact that Lyra seemed to think it an actual device she needed to keep in her arsenal.  
  


”So, do you?”

The prodding made her chuckle as she reached for a napkin, at her wits end with Lynx’s grubby little fingers. “I don’t know, darling.”

”He’s making a huge mess,” Lyra laughed, while making a face at Lynx, who clearly thought it was hilarious as he began bouncing in her lap while still attempting to smash any stray fruit he could reach into his mouth. Since he’d become more mobile, everything seemed to now find its way in there.

”What’s all this fuss about?”

As one, both she and Lyra swiveled to the doorway, all the air stolen from her lungs by Lyra who gasped as her fork clanged against her plate.

“Father!” Lyra’s squeal was unrivaled as she scrambled out of her chair, shot across the patio, and flung herself at Asriel, who was standing just outside the patio doors, his travel bag still hung over his shoulder. “You’re here!”

  
While she was mentally telling her brain to adjust to his presence, Asriel chuckled and patted Lyra’s back as she wrapped her arms around his waist, looking for all the world like she was squeezing the life from him.

So, he was back.

For how long was the true guess. The possibilities flew through her mind as she attempted to control the muscles in her face. However, as quickly as she concluded one thing, a dozen other questions surfaced.

How long had he been back in Oxford? Did he know what had happened with Craft? Was he here just for Lyra’s birthday? Or was he home for good?

  
From the looks of him, he’d been traveling a while; the tan shirt and brown slacks creased from wear while his hair was pushed and held back by shades, the length much longer and wilder than when he’d left only matched by the thickness of his untrimmed beard.

“Now, what’s this I hear?” he asked, eyes dancing as he tilted Lyra’s chin upward. “Is it really your birthday?”

Lyra beamed. “It is.”

”Are you quite sure?” He tilted his head as though looking for deceit. “I could have sworn your birthday was in November.”

“It’s today, promise.”

“Well, if that’s the case. I imagine what with the greedy little thing you are that you’ll want something.” Asriel dropped his bag to the ground and squatted to Lyra’s level before beginning to pat all over his slacks and shirt, his face a sea of amusement. “Let’s see what I have on hand.”

Lyra watched his search with fascination, her fingers twitching at her sides as all her energy seemed to be working it’s way out the best way it could. Then, as he finally touched over his breast pocket and lifted a conspiratorial eyebrow, she stilled.

“Aha!” he said, drawing a small, neatly wrapped gift from within his jacket, the silver paper tied off with a green bow. “As I’m on the spot, I suppose this will have to suffice.”

  
Lyra grinned and immediately tore into the gift, her eyes dancing as she discovered a box beneath the wrappings. “What is it?”

”And you want to be an explorer,” Asriel tutted, tapping the box. “Go on and make your discovery.”

As Lyra set about unboxing the gift, she noted Stel’s steady gaze on Oz, who’d made himself a fixture on the table beside her.

Fixing her own face, she blinked a few times before shifting her eyes to Asriel, who was now watching her with the same intensity with which Lyra was sifting through the box. Twisting her wedding band, she pursed her lips before directing her attention back to Lynx only to jump at Lyra’s next squeal.

“Is this an armored bear tooth!?”

Indeed, within was a large curved tooth, at least an inch thick with a cord set through the base.

Asriel flicked the tooth so it swayed in Lyra’s grasp. “Genuine. I bet none of the girls at St. Catherine’s has anything such as that.”

”Who cares what they have? Tony Costa is the one who’s going to be so jealous.”

At that declaration, Lyra threw her arms around Asriel’s neck and while she couldn’t hear what Lyra said, a brief emotion she didn’t want to place passed over Asriel’s face before he pulled Lyra back with a wink.

When Asriel stood, his eyes met hers again and she steeled herself once more not to give anything away, which became difficult with her daemon’s sudden proximity to his, already feeling Oz’s fingers tangling in Stel’s fur as she passed under the table.

To detract from the heat of his gaze, she adjusted Lynx and said, “Well, if we’re done with the early gift giving, you need to finish your breakfast, Lyra. Your grandmother will be here for you soon.”

While Lyra skipped back over to her chair, from the corner of her eye, she could see him watching her as he remained close to the doors, like he was hesitant to breech her space any further, which of course was ridiculous as Asriel was hardly the hesitant type.

  
Lyra’s smile vanished as she noticed Asriel’s lack of joining them, a line of worry appearing along her forehead. “You’re staying, aren’t you? For my party?”

“Is that my official invitation?” Asriel clasped his hands behind his back and sauntered over to the table. “Because I am truly looking forward to seeing this mismatched guest list I’ve heard about.”

Lyra cast her a sly look and giggled when she shook her head and went back to cleaning Lynx’s face while Asriel took the empty seat next to her.

“Look, Lynx,” Lyra held out her hand, the tooth dangling between her fingers.

Of course, this just made Lynx attempt to squirm out of her lap in pursuit of the thing.

”It’s lovely,” she praised, tossing in a generous smile as she fixed a curl over Lyra’s shoulder again. “But I’d keep it out of his reach before it becomes his new chew toy.”

Then, as if suddenly remembering with him in her sights, Lyra turned to Asriel with a less than pleasant look. “You missed Lynx’s birthday.”

From Asriel’s pausing at pouring himself a drink, she knew Lyra’s one eighty had taken him aback. “Well, I-” He cleared his throat and finished with the pitcher of orange juice. “I had business to take care of.”

“You shouldn’t have missed it. He’ll never have a first birthday again.”

Hardly able to miss the pointedness of that particular dig, she glanced to see if Asriel had picked up on it, but Lyra carried on before she could properly assess his intuition.

“He’s talking now, too... sort of.” Lyra shrugged. “And kind of walking. And you missed all of it.”

With a side glance to Lynx, he responded, “I doubt he’ll remember my absence.”

  
“That’s not the point.”

Asriel folded his arms on the table, leaning forward on them as he considered Lyra. “And I imagine you’re going to explain the point to me.”

“He’ll ask one day and you won’t be able to tell him anything because you weren’t there.”

Without missing a beat, Asriel plucked a strawberry from her plate and took a bite, his eyes never leaving Lyra. “That’s why he has you.”

“That’s a terrible excuse,” Lyra snapped quickly as Pan popped up in Lyra’s lap, his form a darkly shaded wolverine. “You’re his father. You’re supposed to love him enough to be there for the important things.”

”So, it’s your opinion that absence equates a lack of love.” Asriel tilted his head as Lyra frowned. “That I couldn’t possibly love him because I wasn’t here.”

“That’s not what I said-”

”But it is what you implied,” Asriel swiftly countered. “And I imagine if the implication is that I lack love for your brother for missing one birthday, I must really be void of love in your case for missing eight.”

Pan and Lyra exchanged a more timid look as the young daemon took on the form of the familiar white ermine and scurried up Lyra’s arm to wrap around her neck. She imagined Lyra hadn’t meant to take it that far. “I didn’t say that either.”

Silence permeated the air across the breakfast table as Lyra was suddenly avoidant of Asriel’s gaze. For a brief moment, Lyra glanced at her beseechingly before returning to staring at her plate, twisting her fork around in her breakfast.

However, before she could even attempt a rescue of her daughter, her son interrupted the entire table.

  
“Mamamama,” Lynx shouted, engrossed with the fruits he couldn’t reach, prompting her to allow him one strawberry before he managed to get her whole plate. It wasn’t like his shirt wasn’t ruined anyhow.

  
“Your first word was ‘No’.” Asriel finally said, drawing both their surprised gazes to him. “Which should hardly be shocking as you’ve been obstinate since the day you were born. I believe ‘Pan’ came next followed quickly by some very poor variation of ‘Hello’. It’s easy to assume that could be attributed to the many greetings you likely received as the only child at Jordan College.”

Lyra set her fork down and softly asked, “How do you know?”

“The same way I know that little mark on your right hand came from a burn when you touched a skillet in the kitchen and the scar on the heel of your left foot came from a very expensive vase you broke in the Library when you knocked it over chasing after Pan.” Asriel finally let go of the seriousness and smiled. “The Master at Jordan kept me thoroughly informed of your adventures and even many of your misdeeds when you were in the care of your grandmother.”

”Oh.” Lyra seemed to deflate even further as she absorbed the new information.

“Love isn’t an easy concept to explain, Lyra. There’s no perfect box it fits into as there is no worldly means with which it can be contained. The truth is love can be as equally disastrous as it can be beautiful and it is always _always_ complicated.”  
  


Lyra chewed the thought before looking up at her then turning back to him. ”Is that why you haven’t spoken to mama, yet?”

  
While she felt a heat come to her cheeks at being pulled into what had previously been Asriel’s dilemma, Asriel really began to laugh, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms while measuring Lyra again.

  
“At least your skills of observation are improving.”

With a little more confidence, Lyra stated, “It’s difficult to miss. Aren’t you happy to see her?”

  
Absolutely at her end with this conversation, she abruptly stated, “Madeline will be where for you in fifteen minutes. Go get ready.”

A little more eagerly than normal, Lyra jumped up from the table and darted around it. However, before completely departing, she paused and turned back to Asriel.

”Thank you for coming home, today.” Lyra darted a kiss to Asriel’s cheek. “It’s exactly what I prayed for before I went to sleep.”

With that bashful admission, Lyra shot off for the house and with her gone, she tightened her hold on Lynx and prepared to leave herself, not quite in the correct state to deal with her unexpectedly present husband.

However, like he’d anticipated her fleeing, he put a hand to the back of her chair, blocking her in, which of course brought them closer, her wide eyes meeting his steely blue. “I think the real question is, are _you_ happy to see me, Marisa?”

Fixing him with a hard glare, she countered, “Actually the real question is, how long have _you_ been back, Asriel_?”_

”This morning.” Just the sound of his voice was enough to conjure another pinching jolt beneath her breast. “I had breakfast with my mother who informed me of her lunch date with Lyra.”

In an attempt to create some sort of barrier, she picked up her orange juice and took a sip. ”Hmm.”

Undeterred by her noncommittal attitude and with more tease to his voice he added, “To be honest, I wasn’t going to come here until later, but after having a laugh over the guest list, I thought it best to stop by to make sure you hadn’t committed any murders.”

The flippant comment ticked her spine as her eyes slid over her glass to him. “And why would I do such a thing? Lyra made the list and I’m carrying out her wishes.”  
  


Like he’d been waiting for such a cue, he ventured closer to her, only a few breaths between them now. “Come now, Marisa. You can’t tell me you’re even slightly alright with the dozen or so little water rats who’ll be streaming their muddy boots all over your pristine carpets this evening.”

Tongue pressed hard against the back of her teeth, she gave a thin smile. “Not at all, I’m happy to give Lyra whatever she wants.”

His eyes fell to her mouth, desire flickering in his sea of blue. “Is that so?”

“Lovely as it is to see you, Asriel,” she sighed, snapping her fingers at Oz who had his fingers buried in the thickest portion of fur around Stelmaria’s neck. “I should check on Lyra and you...” She tightened her grip on Lynx and shifted him to Asriel’s lap with a bright smile. “Can catch up with your son. As Lyra said, he’s sort of talking now.”  
  


A resigned noise escaped him as he relented and let her up in order to take their dripping boy. However, as she moved to stand, his next words brought her up short of actually leaving.

“Was it you, Marisa?”

The vagueness of his question settled a frown on her brow as she watched him adjust Lynx in his lap. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“Cynthia.”

Eyes taking him in, she surveyed him from his scuffed shoes to his unpressed shirt to the unruly hair he’d been neglecting to trim to the awful thick beard he’d been sporting who knows where without her there to demand he be rid of it. Three months and this is what he wanted to talk about. Not how she’d been. Not about the children.

This.

“I hope you’re planning to change before any guests arrive.”  
  


His previous attempt at lightheartedness was gone, a hard tension now along his jawline as he stared up at her. “You didn’t have to kill her.”

A short laugh accompanied her eyes roving the scenery for a better sight than him. The entire manor had been cleaned and the grounds cleared and trimmed the day before under her careful watch and yet by nightfall she’d have exactly the problem he’d mentioned. It made her head hurt to even think about it.

“Hmm.” She met his gaze with a sharp look. “He’s eaten enough. Any more will give him a stomachache.”

  
Leaving him there to sulk was all she knew to do with him at this point. She still wasn’t sure how they were supposed to move forward or what would happen now that they were very clearly on opposing sides of a very delicate line.

_“Lyra, I know you want to include everyone, but there are limits to what is acceptable.”_

_There was a significant huff that accompanied Lyra’s falling back into the chair, arms crossing defiantly as she leveled her with a searing glare._

_”Now,” she carried on, ignoring the theatrics. “If you agree to two parties, I swear they’ll be identical.”_

_”I don’t want two parties. I want one party with all of my friends, not just the ones you think are acceptable.”_

_Of course, a sharp bite was given to the end of Lyra’s statement, leaving her biting her own tongue to keep from snapping. All morning, she’d been focused on wording everything just so, planning how to present the proposal so Lyra would agree. Of course she’d known she’d have a fight on her hands, but the girl was absolutely the most unreasonably stubborn creature she’d ever encountered... well, maybe the second most stubborn._

_”You have to think of the other mothers and what sort of party they think they’re bringing their daughters to. They won’t understand and to have kitchen boys and Gyptians-”_   
  


_”Don’t forget the street urchin I befriended last week, mother.”_

_”For the love of-“ There really was nothing to do but lean back and laugh, weary and defeated as it was. Crossing her own arms, she stared at the little Belacqua heir she’d spent hours pushing into this world and fought the smirk tugging at her lips._

_”Why must you be so stubborn?”_

_Lyra’s fire wilted a smidge, but only just. “My friends aren’t trash and if you make me invite them to a separate party that’s what you’ll be telling them.”_

_Lifting a hand to her head, she pressed two fingers to her temple and sighed. “My darling Lyra, I’m trying to manage this the best I can.”_

_Pan lighted at Lyra’s shoulder and flapped his wings with the same defiance Lyra was showcasing. ”No, you’re not. You can make anyone do anything.”_

_”Except anyone with Belacqua blood apparently.” She shook her head and met her daughter’s dark eyes. “It has to be this way.”_

_”Marcella and Jane won’t mind and neither will their mothers.” Lyra lifted her chin. “And the rest you can make fall in line.”_

_Laughter bubbled up and out at the conviction radiating from Lyra. The girl was nothing if not persistent. Crossing her legs, she folded her hands over her lap and smiled. “There are many things I can make people do, Lyra, but changing the ingrained ways they see things is not one of them.”_

_Pan shifted to an ermine and scurried up to Lyra’s ear. A moment passed and then Lyra’s fire returned as she very pointedly stated, “Then, I’ll spend my birthday the way I always have... by myself. I’ve never had a party before, so why bother starting now.”_

_Those little reminders never failed to tighten her chest, but this time she wasn’t letting Lyra guilt her. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lyra. Besides, your last birthday was spent with your father and I.”_

_”And we can do that again this year,” Lyra pressed as both she and Pan stared her down. “But I guess Lynx will have to replace father since you made him leave.”_

_Teeth grinding, she twisted her ring around her finger. “We’ve already had this discussion. That’s not what happened.”_

_”He missed Lynx’s birthday. He wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t make him.”_

_Oz made an appearance at her shoulder and she lifted her hand to keep him from jolting forward._

_”And as I said before,” she reminded, forcing herself to remain steady as she twisted and checked her wristwatch. “He had unexpected business to take care of.”  
_

_Still, Lyra glared, leaving the two of them once again caught in a standoff. Two months later and she still couldn’t convince Lyra that Asriel had left of his own accord. It wasn’t even a lie. She’d never been able to make Asriel do anything he didn’t want. The fact that he’d left so easily told her he’d been fine with it._

_”I want him here.”_

_The dejected whisper brought her eyes back to Lyra, who was slouched down in the chair, Pan now a little snow leopard nuzzling her cheek._

_There truly were times she hated that form._   
  


_At her wit’s end, she found her feet and moved to Lyra, settling on the arm rest of the chair before allowing her fingers to comb through Lyra’s hair._

_”I know,” she murmured. “Maybe he’ll show up.”_

_Unlikely. He’d been in the clear to return for over a month now and she’d neither seen nor heard of any trace of him anywhere. There was little possibility he hadn’t heard the news about Craft._

_”He would agree with me and you’d have to do what we said.”_

_”Oh, I’d have to, would I?” she laughed, amused at how easily Lyra thought she could be swayed._

_Lyra turned her face up to her, brown eyes practically pitiful. For a heartbeat, she wondered if this whole silly sadness routine was an elaborate ruse to get her to cave._

_”I think I’d rather father be here than have any party.”_

_”Oh, Lyra,” she bemoaned, wrapping an arm around Lyra’s shoulders and pulling her daughter into her side._

_A little shake signaled that this in fact wasn’t a ruse as Lyra laid her head in her lap and softly asked, _ _”Do you really think he might come?”_  
  


_Carding her fingers through Lyra’s long hair again, she caved, unable to keep at this game when Lyra was so distressed. “Well, if he does, I imagine he’ll be annoyed to find all your friends here at once.”_

_At that, Lyra popped up, eyes brightening in spite of the single tear on her cheek. “Really?”_

_Brushing the wet streak with the back of her knuckle, she shook her head with a smile. “You only turn ten once.”_

  
“This is the wrong color.” The peach icing stood out painfully on the ornately decorated cake. “I said red velvet.” She placed a single, manicured finger at the edge of the icing and lifted a swipe of it. “Are you ignorant or color blind?”

The baker, red faced and nearly panting, waved his hands toward the ridiculous design. “It’s what I was told, Lady Belacqua. My assistant said peach.”

“Peach.” The word rolled of her tongue as though it tasted bitter. “How difficult is it to take down a simple order? I was painfully specific in my description of what I wanted.” Her eyes roved over the cake once more, taking in the flower designs and pastel coloring. “Is it your intention to ruin my daughter’s tenth birthday?”

”I-” The man continued to splutter, going so far as to jump when Oz leapt to the counter, a sneer at the man’s colorful spider sending it back up the sleeve of his shirt. “It’ll be replaced before the party. You have my word.”

”It had better be,” she sniped, snapping her fingers for them to remove it. “Or the only thing you’ll be decorating is a street corner by the time I’m finished with you.”

The man nearly tripped over himself as his assistant recovered the cake and started for the service entrance to the kitchen.

The rest of her own staff set about their business, the show over, as she rubbed her temple and took a deep breath.

“Lyra won’t care about the cake.”

Cutting her eyes to Oz, she observed him tracing his little black fingers through the bits of icing on the countertop.

“You know that’s not the point.”

He flicked his tail at the comment, but knew to stay silent on any further points he might try to make.

“Ma’am.”

Gaze snapping to the half open door, Thorold waited, with a grim smile. “Lord Asriel is insisting you join him on the patio.”

Twisting her wrist watch, she read the time and nearly groaned. “I don’t have time to deal with him, Thorold.”

Thorold gave her a familiar look, one she was accustomed to when he’d encountered a particularly annoying Belacqua dilemma that in any other family would be a simple fix. If only...

“Please make sure everything else goes according to schedule.” She sighed as he held the door wider for her. “I don’t want anything to ruin Lyra’s birthday.”

“Yes, ma’am. It’ll run as perfectly as you planned.”

Despite the pull already present in her shoulders, she smiled and slipped past him.  
  


From the moment Lyra had walked out the door to Madeline’s waiting car, she’d distracted herself with the list of the things she still had to do.

However, even from her office window, he’d been a distraction as she’d caught sight of him with Lynx in his arms walking out toward the river where boats were already docking. The very sight of him alone conjured all sorts of conflicting feelings she wasn’t ready to deal with just yet and she’d decided any conversation with him could definitely wait, but that hadn’t stopped her from losing all control of her heart, which had been thudding as though it wished to escape her chest and lodge into his.

  
By the time she was bursting through the patio doors, she was fuming. He couldn’t just return home and make demands of her.

”Mama.”

But as it always happened with him, even in the moments he wasn’t trying to, he somehow managed to soften her resolve. Just as he was doing now. For there he was bent down with Lynx standing between his knees, pointing at the river down the hill, both of them talking like either could understand the other with Flora winding between Stel’s paws as a little red fox, barking at her for attention. It was so absolutely adorable that she couldn’t help but pause and commit the picture of them to memory.

  
“Mamama.”

”You said he knew words,” Asriel called over his shoulder. “Not just the one.”

Snapping out of her haze, she gave an impatient snort, all sappy inclinations gone. “What do you want, Asriel? I have a list of things to get taken care of before-”

“I’d like to get this conversation out of the way.” He looked back at her. “I imagine it would be preferable to not have us at each other’s throats for the duration of the evening.”

A purse of her lips was all she managed before he sighed and turned his attention back to Lynx, who was still jabbering on, his and Asriel’s matching locks meshing as Asriel leaned down to whisper to him, taking his small fingers in his much larger ones and pointing out over the landscape.

“Was it Boreal who helped you?” he finally asked.

”Do you really think I’d trust our lives to Carlo Boreal?”

When he didn’t respond, she gave up the pretense that she might leave and moved closer, taking a seat on the bench beside them. Upon seeing her, Lynx gave a squeal, his mantra of ‘Mama’ growing in volume and repetition as he made an attempt to walk toward her only to end up kicking his legs excitedly as Asriel did more lifting than guiding him toward her.

With a smile, she bent down to take his hands and help him the rest of the way.

“You always have a meticulous method to your madness,” Asriel commented, pushing up and taking a seat beside her. “I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

With Lynx now standing between their knees, occupied with the texture of the stone bench, she whispered, “I was beginning to think they’d taken you before I managed to deal with it all.”

“You told me to leave, Marisa, and you didn’t seem to keen on my returning any time soon.”

“And since when have you ever listened to me?” She finally met his eyes to convey her frustration. “I expected you back months ago.”

This time, he was the one who looked away, his eyes out over the view and ran a hand through his hair. “We’re at a stalemate. I didn’t know what I’d be coming home to.”

“And now you do?” she asked flippantly. “Because I didn’t help Craft escape so you could continue to supplant me.”

His gaze fell to Lynx, his hand now brushing over their son’s head. “I came home for Lyra. I figured one of you hating me was enough.”

“If hating you was that easy, we’d have never married in the first place.”

His eyes lifted, a little smile present as he looked over what seemed to be every inch of her face. “I did miss you.”

Unable to keep his eyes for fear they’d burn her alive, she turned back to the view, her eyes on the dingy boats dotting the river.

“I can tell,” she murmured, fingers gripping the bench.

“If I wasn’t afraid of getting slapped, I’d kiss you.”

Heart beating a little quicker under what she knew was his needy gaze, she smarted, “You know I don’t want that thing anywhere near my face.”

Asriel’s laugh made Lynx bounce with his own laughter as he lifted a rock to show them, wide eyes bright and much bluer than his stained cheeks and lips.

“Mama!”

“I take it that really is the only word.”

Finally relenting with a smile, she bent down and lifted Lynx to her lap before taking to swiping her fingers over his cheeks in an attempt to work the blueberry stains off. “Lyra’s devastated about it.”

Amidst her dealing with Lynx’s squirming to be off on his own again, Asriel reached out and cupped her jaw, turning her face so he could brush the softest possible kiss to her cheek before lingering there to breathe her in.

”I really did miss you, my love.”

How easy it would have been to turn her face further into him, to let him kiss away her troubles and wash her in his pretty words the way Stel was now doting upon Oz behind them.

“I should bathe Lynx,” she whispered, turning in the opposite direction and standing with Lynx shuffled onto her hip. “Please do something with your face so the guests don’t mistake you for one of those water rats.”

She didn’t wait to see if he’d pop a smart reply.

* * *

“Mama,” Lynx squealed, splashing in the shallow water in pursuit of Flora’s little turtle form, who seemed to be having the time of her life swimming around him.

“Flora,” she corrected, swiping the sponge over his hair.

Loathe as she was to admit it, she was beginning to change her stance and wish he could talk using more than ‘Mama’. The one word didn’t really help much in the conversation department, especially when he was screaming for things she couldn’t place.

“Lyra will be home soon,” she commented, reaching for a towel to dry her face. “Do you want to see Lyra?”

Like he completely understood, he looked up at her with a laugh and jabbered incoherently.

Bathing Lynx was definitely more difficult than Lyra and likely one of the things she should give up to Ms. Taylor, but she just couldn’t part with it. So, as with most things, she did it herself and nearly always found herself soaked by the end of it.

“Why do we even bother employing a nanny if you insist on doing these things yourself?”

Looking over her shoulder, she found Asriel leaning against the door and groaned before turning back to Lynx.

”Because I enjoy spending time with him.”

Toweling off her arms, she lifted Lynx and wrapped him up only to have her hair caught in his fist as he made his protests about the end of bath time known.

  
“Lynx,” she murmured through her teeth, grasping his hand in an attempt to pry his fingers loose.

”Here.” Asriel’s hands covered hers and took over detaching their discontented son.

Free at last, she sighed and moved toward the nursery, Lynx in tow and unfortunately Asriel as well.

“You know, you never answered my question about Cynthia.”

“It wasn’t my intention for the girl to die if you’re implying such.”

”Then, why is she dead?”

  
“Surely you understand there are casualties in war.” She tried to sit Lynx down so she could gather his outfit, but he wasn’t having it, clinging around her neck better than Oz ever could. “Cynthia was a casualty.”

“Explain that to me. You don’t have enough pull to have gotten Craft out of the Magisterium unscathed. You must have had help.”

”If you insist on following me, take him while I get his clothes.” She handed Lynx off to an aggravated Asriel.

”Mama,” Lynx cried, throwing his head back and flailing, his whole body addled with fury while Flora was shifting so rapidly, she could barely make out one form before it was replaced with another.  
  


”Asriel,” she said, exasperation nearly about to take hold as her husband seemed more focused on the fact that she was neglecting his questions than tending to their son. “Don’t let him do that.”

With a grunt, Asriel shifted Lynx and sat on the window seat, holding him there until she came back with his outfit, a little navy dress shirt and black slacks to match Lyra’s jumper.

By this point, Lynx’s cheeks were splotched red and tear soaked as he screamed, squirming every which way in an attempt to escape Asriel’s hold. Stel nudged in between Asriel’s legs and spoke in low tones, her nose nuzzling at Lynx, catching his attention for a moment before he started up again.

”Shh,” she soothed, squatting in front of Asriel as Stel moved out of her way and wiped his damp cheeks. “It’s alright, mama’s here.”

The process of actually dressing her son was definitely more difficult than Lyra, which of course was impressive considering Lyra was... well, Lyra. Thankfully, Asriel had decided to be slightly more helpful by working with her to get him dressed.

  
Then, as though he’d never had a tantrum, Lynx laughed as she picked him up, muttering gibberish again. “See, there’s nothing to be upset about.” With a kiss to his head, she turned and eyed her husband. It was nearly comical how little he was now hiding his agitation.

Once again leaving him, she found Ms. Taylor and handed Lynx off with instructions to keep him clean while she got ready herself and attempted to avoid her husband.

And she did, for all of ten minutes.

Bathtub full and scalding hot, she’d relaxed for just a minute to rest her eyes only to open them and find he’d silently appeared beside her with Stel prowling around the tub in search of Oz, who was atop a shelf far from her reach.

“Can I not have a minute without you breathing down my neck?”

Like she hadn’t said a word, he took a seat on the tub’s edge, leaning over with his elbows propped on his knees, fingers clasped, and demeanor giving way his intention to proceed with his persistent needling at her for answers.

“You’ve had three months.”

Nearly ready to devolve into eye rolling, she let her head fall back with a defeated sigh and closed her eyes instead. She was simply too tired. Tired of working. Tired of plotting. Tired of mothering. Tired of thinking of all the little ways ways she should have seen what Asriel was doing. If only she’d caught on sooner...

”Don’t you want to know where I was?”

”I don’t care,” she murmured. “Keep your secrets.”

“I have no desire to keep secrets from you.”

Laughter slipped from her as she rolled her head to look him over again. Even in his rugged state, he was so painfully beautiful; jaw strong and eyes piercing like little pinpricks against her heated, sensitive skin.

“Well, that would be a first, wouldn’t it?” While he turned from her and placed his gaze to the floor, she allowed her eyes to really wander over him and she noticed a detail she hadn’t registered before. “You weren’t in the North.”

Asriel went rigid, his shoulders tensing as he glanced at her, eyes zeroing in on her. “I was... for a few weeks.”

Pulling herself upright, she grasped the collar of his shirt and jerked the loosely stitched material to the side. “You were in the East...” Her eyes greedily roved his darkened complexion, thoughts turning over and processing. “Or South.”

“Africa.”

Hardly able to hide her startled look, her expression slackened. ”Why? None of the facilities were located on that continent.”

”To try to better understand.” His eyes arrested hers, steady, but probing. “That is where your idea originated, is it not?”

Mind racing in a dozen different directions, she swallowed and removed her hand from him.

“While I was in the North, I considered all the possibilities for how we could survive,” Asriel continued, eyes drawn back to the floor. “And how the Magisterium’s worth could possibly compare to that of our marriage. So, then, I really began to delve into the why’s and what if’s and I recalled the book you’d written while in Africa and how not long after, this idea of separation sprang forward.”

The water enveloping her may as well have pulled her under and drowned her for how little air she was utilizing.

“The Zombi,” he nearly whispered, eyes lost as though he were still there, in the sun soaked desert, watching a soul be ripped from its body. “I watched the ritual and tried to see as you did, tried to understand what could possibly be worth the risk of our marriage and children.”

His eyes journeyed back to hers, but she refused to hold them, choosing the still scalding bath as her possible watery grave.

”That’s what you want for Lyra and Lynx? A less than human world? Full of ... _creatures_ with no capacity for sadness, anger, love?”

”You don’t understand,” she murmured, sinking low in the tub until the water was up to her shoulders.

”You’re right, I don’t. It was barbaric, Marisa.”

She wanted to slap him; curse him... but she was too tired to do that, either. So, she chose a foreign tactic.

Passivity.

Drawing both hands to her face, she scrubbed her palms down her forehead and cheeks, resisting the urge to use her nails for added infliction.

“I won’t allow that world for them.”

“And how are you going to stop it, my love?” Her eyes slid to his, daring him to start down this path again. “I have you dead to rights. One wrong move and I can throw you to the wolves.”

If he’d been one of the gods of myth, she’d have been struck down by his flashing eyes, but the very human man that he was leaned over the width of the tub, his right arm bracing the opposite rim so he could get right down in her face in what she could only assume was an attempt to lord his weight and height over her.

“Fuck you, Marisa.”

More than accustomed to his proneness to bitter retorts, she wrapped herself with indifference and ignored the sharp sting to her heart through a forced smile as she lifted her fingers to touch his lips, “Of course, darling, you and everyone else.”  
  


Asriel’s eyes flickered between hers, picking her apart, like she was one of the little calculations he couldn’t quite grasp, taunting him by taking a step just out of reach.

“Who helped you if not Boreal? Marcel?”

That actually drew a laugh. “Marcel? You think Marcel would help a criminal escape?”

“Marisa-”

Disregarding him, she pushed him back and stood, the steaming water streaming down her body in tiny rivulets as she reached for a towel and stepped out.

  
But as she wrapped the towel around herself, a building prickle began around her eyes and to keep it from becoming more than that, she stabbed her nails into her palms, redirecting the pain elsewhere.

If she let Asriel see he’d affected her, it would be over. And for him to once again threaten her standing with her children... it settled a simmering rage in her belly.

”You really want to know who I went to?” She met his eyes in the mirror, knowing the delicate line she should balance, but also knowing that keeping to that line was hardly as satisfying as pushing him to the edge of insanity. “It was Ross.”

The flash of jealousy which followed his momentarily slack expression wasn’t lost to her and it irked that particular nerve he’d been touching for the last few minutes of his judgement filled silence.

“Why would you go to him?”

Turning about, she cinched the towel over her breasts and tilted her head, a smirk replacing her pinched expression. “Why wouldn’t I? He’s powerful with pockets and connections deep enough to see it done properly.” At his unconvinced brooding, she decided to further pour salt in the wound. “Besides,” she went on, letting her face split further. “The man was all too ready to assist my every need.”

Asriel’s eyes narrowed and she just knew he was measuring her, could practically see the wheels turning questions over in his skull, determining the strength of her faithfulness in the face of his betrayal, for he knew her like no one else. The Marisa of old would have fucked Ross Becker just to dig the knife into Asriel’s spine for ever dreaming of plotting behind her back. That Marisa may have even brought Boreal into Asriel’s bed just to spite him.

But if he thinks this Marisa would... the one who apologizes and begs forgiveness; who goes to her knees with pleas for him to never leave her... who hands out pieces of herself for her children to greedily lap up with little consideration for her own needs...

”So, that’s it, then?” He threw a hand toward the door, his face awash with disdain. “You just marched up to Ross in the street and said you knew everything and he generously agreed to do what you asked?”

“Actually, I rang his doorbell and we hashed out the details in his apartment.” It wasn’t actually Stel who growled this time, but Asriel, his stormy eyes hardening as she added, “And perhaps we had a glass of wine or two to ease the discomfort of our previously interrupted engagement.”

The very visible way he tensed sent a thrill down her spine. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve the needling. After all, he negotiated with women all the time in back alley deals.

“And how long did it take to hash out those details?”

Stifling a laugh, she shrugged, “Some things take a little time, darling, while others...” She met his eyes again with a pointed look. “Can be rather lengthy, especially when he was so eager to service me.”

The swiftness with which his hands snapped to her waist should have been impressive, but semantics were hardly where her mind immediately went when his hot breath hit her ear.  
  


”Don’t toy with me, Marisa,” he bit, fingers bruising as he roughly pressed her back into the counter so he could lean over her, caging her in and forcing her to brace against the sink. “Did you let him touch you?”

Even with his erratic breathing against her face, his pulse rapidly beating against her chest, and his muscles tensed around her, she still managed to smart, “It depends upon your definition of touch.”

Another growl sounded, but she couldn’t place if it was Asriel, Stel, or both. Then, one hand wound around her neck with a gentle pressure while the other steadied along her side, his thumb hooking beneath her breast.

  
  
“Oh, you mean there,” she laughed, slipping a thigh between his while laying a hand over the one at her breast, pressing her fingers down between his, and rising up to meet him eye to eye. “You know that’s not my best feature when it comes to men, my love.”

At that, Asriel blinked, prompting her to pull his hand up, far enough for her to take his middle and ring finger into her mouth, her tongue twirling around the digit, absorbing the leftover residue that tasted of strawberry and something bitter, like copper.

”Marisa,” he groaned, his voice cracking over the syllables as he swallowed thickly, his chest stuttering against her.

”And you know what comes after that,” she whispered, dragging his wet digits down, down, down, between the gaps in the towel, the slick heat of her saliva leaving a trail along her abdomen before finding an altogether different source of heat between her thighs. “The only thing you all want from me.”

While his hand wasn’t moving, hers was, twisting and curling between his as she rotated her hips, her thigh firm against the outline of his cock, which was certainly making up for his fingers’ lack of interest.

“You men and your short-sighted vision, always looking for the prettiest holes to bury your cocks.” She turned her face into his, rubbing her nose through his wiry beard. “And then once you’ve had your fill and maybe a taste to top you off, you’re finished with me.”

Asriel dropped his head to her shoulder, his palm pressing flat against her pubic bone as he rutted a few times against her thigh, heady groans burning her skin with each thrust.

“Go on and have your fill, Asriel. That was the goal when your married me, wasn’t it?”

“You are an impossible woman,” he murmured into her skin, the hand around her neck tightening. “Why do you have to be so fucking cruel?”

Skillfully slipping her hand from her sex to his, she nipped at his jaw and delighted in his sharp breath when she took him in her palm. “Take what you bought.”

“Is that what it’ll take to justify the narrative you’ve spun in your head?” Teeth scraped her skin at the juncture between her neck and shoulder as every muscle in his body seemed to coil. “So you can think this is all you are to me?”

  
  
Not one to be subverted, she utilized the one thing she knew would topple him into madness. “You’re right, perhaps I have spun myself out of reality.” Abandoning his cock, she threaded her fingers through his hair and waited for his eyes. “Ross and I did so enjoy each other before you sent him away, particularly the night before you showed up. Perhaps, because I wanted it to be so badly, I was mistaken after all.” She took a good dozen or so heartbeats to look over his face. “Lynx really doesn’t bear any resemblance with you, does he?”

Every choice she’d made lately seemed to be a gamble. This was no different and as it seemed to go with her, it paid off.

For in the midst of the next few heartbeats, she found herself spun by the hand gripped in the back of her hair and roughly bent over the counter, her arm now forced to brace against the mirror to keep from smacking her face into it.

Oz was the one who gave the howl from his perch, no doubt clutching the edge of the shelf, flaming fur standing on end. In return, Stel’s claws screeched as they scratched at the wall, her body stretched out as far as it could in an effort to reach him.

“You should have married him,” he growled, yanking back her head, his lips brushing her ear. “And left Lyra with your mother because no matter how much you may love her, she’d still have been better off there than with a parent who fantasizes about ripping her friends in half.”

The howl Oz had given was nothing alongside the vicious snarl that tore from her lungs as she jabbed her elbow into his spleen, knocking the wind out of him as he doubled over, one hand catching himself on the counter, but never loosening his hold on her with the other.

“You’ll have to do worse than that before I let what you’re doing at Bolvanger ever see the light of day, Marisa.”

“I wish Edward had fucking killed you,” she bit only to have him renew his unrelenting grip after he’d recovered himself, spurred on by her sharp rebuttal and the rage swirling clear as day in his eyes when they found hers in the mirror. 

Even as the words tumbled from her lips, regret seared across her chest, but pride was the deadliest of her seven sisters and she’d accepted her lot at the height of most depraved of sinners some time ago.  
  


  
“Longing for Ross and now Edward,” he scoffed. “Just what are you willing to do to be nothing more than someone’s pretty little cockring again, Marisa?” An unintended shudder passed through her when he placed his cheek to hers and ripped her towel away, leaving her naked and bent to his will. “Maybe you just really enjoy debasing yourself since I was the only one who ever wanted you for more than your face.”

“You’re disgusting,” she snapped, unable to shove him off.

“You want me to treat you like them? Like our love is disposable?” His hand settled between her thighs again. “Is this what you want for us, Marisa? Base desire?”

Stubborn pride warred against the churning desperation in her chest, the battle practically leaking from her every pore. To say yes would be to diminish perhaps the last chance at salvaging their marriage, but to say no would be to forgive him and she couldn’t do that yet. Locking her jaw, she hardened her eyes, refusing to answer him at all.

  
Apparently no answer was enough of an answer for Asriel, who nipped at her stiff jaw, drawing a stagger to her breath as he slid smoothly within her, inciting a mutual sigh of relief from them both, like a weary traveler finally arriving home.  
  


And for a precious brief minute, they stayed like that, wrapped around and within each other, chests rising and falling in time, different shades of blue locked in the mirror. Then, like a sweet rain against parched earth, Asriel brushed his lips to her cheek and began moving gently, his unsteady breath trailing over her jaw as he took to her neck.

Shoving down the flip her stomach did at how in sync they were, she slithered her fingers up his neck into the back of his hair. “Do you think I fucked him?”

He shuddered against her, turning his face into her neck, obscuring his eyes from her. ”No.”

”Are you sure?” She spitefully jerked his head up. “You don’t sound sure.”

His eyes were ringed red, but she ignored that in favor of his parted chapped lips.

”Maybe you think I brought him off,” she prodded, pushing down how heightened her own breathing was becoming and twisting his hair as his hips stuttered against hers. “Is that it? You think I got on my knees? That I degraded myself before him?”

”Marisa-”

“Because if I had done such things, I could play by your rules and say I did it for you, to save you from being found out.” Asriel stilled, his bloodshot eyes fixed on hers. “Would you forgive me for such a betrayal of your trust as you expect of me?”

A pained noise escaped him as he brought a hand up to palm her cheek, roughly turning her face to his, hands greedily grasping her face and belly simultaneously. His mouth crashed into hers, hard enough to draw a whimper up her throat as she clawed at his neck, succumbing to wanting more, needing more.

  
Then, a sharp pain seared across her back and she knew Oz had fallen to Stel, who’d just dragged her claws over his spine. Falling forward, she braced against the mirror again, losing her breath at the shift in his demeanor, like a switch had flipped and soft was the furthest thing from his mind as he began unrelentingly drilling into her.  
  


“Asriel,” she ardently keened, pushing back into his onslaught, teeth finding the muscle of her arm to muffle her need.

The cold smoothness of the mirror deeply contrasted the calloused warmth of his hands which were spread out over her back, one at her hip and the other flexed over her spine right at the column of her neck where he held her down, moving her back and forth as he wished; using her just as he’d claimed.

And when she shattered around him and he within her, there was a stark absence of the affection which had accompanied them even at their worst moments.

Instead, they parted with Asriel stumbling back while she collapsed forward, her eyes tightly clamped to keep the wave of emotion at the growing chasm between them in check.

The room became saturated with only their heavy breathing to fill it and the mass of it in turn increasingly became too heavy to bear.

“Please get out,” she whispered, attempting and failing to gather her composure as she righted herself, lifting her towel to cover her nakedness while still avoiding his eyes. “Lyra will be home soon.”

”Marisa-”

“Do not disappoint her, Asriel,” she warned, sucking in a deep breath and finally turning to him, hardly caring now if he saw the sorrow conveyed in the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. If he cared, it was hidden in his own sorrow, the devastation painted in every facet of his face. “She deserves better than us.” Shaking her head, she forced a broken smile and clutched the towel tighter. “They both do.”

The ground had become a focal point for Asriel, who nodded, running both hands up his face and through his hair and laughed, albeit very raggedly.

”So, that’s it, then?” He resumed his seat on the tub’s edge and looked to her, hands clasped like he was forcing himself to keep them there. “Do you still love me, Marisa?”

“Love... our love has done nothing but bring misery, Asriel. It has killed, destroyed, Lyra is...” Holding a hand out to the door, she admitted, “You saw her, today. She is so full of hurt and insecurity. Even now.”

”Our love gave us Lyra... and Lynx.”

”We had an affair,” she reminded, part exhaustion part exasperation lapping at her nerves. “Lyra is the product of my betraying a man to whom I pledged my life, love, and fidelity. And Lynx is the product of you deceiving me for personal and political gain. We’re toxic together, Asriel.”

“I know you don’t believe that.”

”It doesn’t matter. I can’t forgive you and if we try to remain as we are, doing _this_... we’ll only poison them, too.”

Stel appeared around the tub, padding softly to Asriel’s side. Like a magnet, his hand rested between her ears as she placed her large jaws on his thigh. The silent comforting connection between man and daemon was too much to watch.

“I have to get ready,” she whispered, forcing her feet to turn as Oz jumped to the counter beside her as she began reaching for her toothbrush.

Behind her, she could hear him stand and fix his belt as well as Stel’s soft movements as she exited the bathroom.

“I’m not leaving again, Marisa. They’re my children, too.”

His words withered away and then so did he, leaving her alone with Oz.

“He’s not finished with us.”

Gripping the counter, she nodded. “I know.”

Silence settled between the pair until she’d had enough and shook her head, forced herself to stand straight, and look into her own eyes.  
  


”Everything will be fine.”

Lying was an art she’d mastered. Too bad it didn’t work on herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I wonder how this party will unfold?


End file.
